B  E  R  K  E  L  E  Y"\ 

LIBRARY 

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CALIFORNIA    J 

«._ ^/ 


THE  LIBRARY 

OF 

THE  UNIVERSITY 
OF  CALIFORNIA 


GIFT  OF 

Wallace  Rowland 


K.T. 


WE  CATCHED   A   LOT    OF  THE  NICEST   FISH   YOU   EVER  SEE" 


TOM    SAWYER   ABROAD 
TOM    SAWYER,   DETECTIVE 

AND    OTHER    STORIES 
ETC.,  ETC. 


BY   MARK  TWAIN 


ILLUSTRATED 


NEW    YORK   AND   LONDON 
HARPER    &    BROTHERS    PUBLISHERS 


UNIFORM  EDITION  OF 
MARK      TWAIN'S      WORKS 

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A  CONNECTICUT    YANKEE.      Illustrated.  .75 

HUCKLEBERRY  FINN.       Illustrated.  .75 

PRINCE  AND  PAUPER.       Illustrated.  .75 

LIFE  ON  THE   MISSISSIPPI.       Illustrated.  .75 
THE  MAN  THAT    CORRUPTED    HADLEYBURG, 

Etc.     Illustrated.  .75 

TOM  SAWYER    ABROAD,    Etc.      Illustrated.  .75 

ADVENTURES  OF  TOM  SAWYER.      Illustrated.  .75 

PUDD'NHEAD    WILSON.       Illustrated.  .75 

SKETCHES    NEW   AND     OLD.     Illustrated.  .75 

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ROUGHING  IT.       Illustrated.  .00 

A  TRAMP  ABROAD.        Illustrated.  .00 

THE  GILDED  AGE.       Illustrated.  .00 

FOLLOWING  THE    EQUATOR.      Illustrated.  .00 

JOAN  OF  ARC.       Illustrated.  .50 

Other    Books  by  Mark  Twain 
CAPTAIN  STORMFIELD'S   VISIT  TO  HEAVEN. 

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EVE'S  DIARY.       Illustrated.  i.oo 

A  DOG'S  TALE.      Illustrated.  i.oo 

THE  JUMPING   FROG.     Illustrated.  -.00 

How  TO   TELL  A  STORY,  Etc.  1.50 
A   DOUBLE-BARRELLED    DETECTIVE   STORY. 

Illustrated.  i .  50 
Is  SHAKESPEARE  DEAD?                               net  1.25 


Copyright,  1878,  by  SLOTB,  WOODMAN  &  Co. 

Copyright,  1882, 1894,^896,  1906, 1910,  by  S.  L.  CLEMENS 

Copyright,  1896,  by  HAKPER  &  BROTHERS 


GIFT 


c/57 


CONTENTS 


TOM   SAWYER  ABROAD 

CHAP.  PAGE 

I.  TOM  SEEKS  NEW  ADVENTURES 3 

II.  THE  BALLOON  ASCENSION 13 

III.  TOM  EXPLAINS 20 

IV.  STORM ' 29 

V.  LAND 34 

VI.  IT'S  A  CARAVAN     .          42 

VII.  TOM  RESPECTS  THE  FLEA 48 

VIII.  THE  DISAPPEARING  LAKE 56 

IX.  TOM  DISCOURSES  ON  THE  DESERT    ......  66 

X.  THE  TREASURE-HILL 73 

XL  THE  SAND-STORM 81 

XII.  JIM  STANDING  SIEGE 92 

XIII.  GOING  FOR  TOM'S  PIPE 103 

TOM    SAWYER,   DETECTIVE 115 

THE   STOLEN   WHITE    ELEPHANT .     .191 

SOME  RAMBLING  NOTES  OF  AN  IDLE  EXCURSION.   217 

THE  FACTS  CONCERNING  THE  RECENT  CARNIVAL 
OF   CRIME   IN    CONNECTICUT 277 

ABOUT   MAGNANIMOUS- INCIDENT   LITERATURE    .  298 
PUNCH,    BROTHERS,    PUNCH 306 


648 


iv 

PAGE 

THE    GREAT    REVOLUTION   IN   PITCAIRN     ....  313 
ON   THE   DECAY   OF    THE  ART   OF   LYING  ....  327 

THE   CANVASSER'S   TALE 334 

AN   ENCOUNTER   WITH   AN    INTERVIEWER.     .     .     .342 

PARIS    NOTES 348 

LEGEND   OF   SAGENFELD,   IN   GERMANY 351 

SPEECH    ON    THE   BABIES 360 

SPEECH   ON   THE   WEATHER 364 

CONCERNING   THE   AMERICAN    LANGUAGE.     ...  368 
ROGERS 373 

THE     LOVES    OF    ALONZO     FITZ    CLARENCE    AND 
ROSANNAH   ETHELTON 379 

MAP   OF   PARIS 405 

LETTER   READ  AT  A   DINNER  .  408 


ILLUSTRATIONS 


TOM  SAWYER  ABROAD 

"A   LOT   OF   THE   NICEST    FISH   YOU  EVER   SEE"  .       .      Frontispiece 
"WE   WENT  OUT   IN    THE  WOODS  ON  THE  HILL".       .      Facing  page      IO 

"HE   SAID    HE   WOULD    SAIL   AROUND   THE   GLOBE".  "  l6 

"AND    HERE   WAS   NIGHT   COMING   ON!"        ....  "  l8 

"HE  SAID  HE  WOULD  KEEP  UP  THIS  GAIT"  ...  "  28 

"'  YOU  WANT  TO  LEAVE  ME  '" "  30 

"THE   THUNDER    BOOMED,   AND   THE    LIGHTNING 

GLARED,  AND  THE  WIND  SCREAMED".    ...  "  32 

"'RUN!  RUN  FO'  YO'  LIFE!'" "  38 

"AND  THERE  WAS  THE  LION,  A-RIPPING  AROUND".  "  40 

"WE  SWOOPED  DOWN,  NOW,  ALL  OF  A  SUDDEN"  .  "  42 

"THE  LAST  MAN  TO  GO  SNATCHED  UP  A  CHILD".    .  "  44 

"WE   COME   A-WHIZZING   DOWN" "  46 

"  'AND  WHERE'S  YOUR  RAILROAD,  'LONGSIDE  OF  A 

FLEA?'" "  48 

"'WHERE'S  YOUR  MAN  NOW?'" "  50 

"THAT  FLEA  WOULD  BE  PRESIDENT" "  52 

"WE  OPENED  THE  BOX  " "  58 

"THE  LIONS  AND  TIGERS  WAS  SORTING  OUT  THE 

CLOTHES" "  64 


THE   CAMEL-DRIVER   IN   THE   TREASURE-CAVE  .       .       .       Facing  page      74 


IN   THE    SAND-STORM 


"'GOO-GOO  —  GOO-GOO'" 
"FETCHING  ANOTHER  HOWL" 
"KEPT  ME  UP  'MOST  ALL  NIGHT" 
OUR  LAWYER 

''SET  DOWN,'  SAYS  THE  JUDGE" 
'  '  A  MURDER  WAS  DONE*" 


82 


"  WHEN  THEY    DANCED  WE   JOINED  IN  " "  g4 

THE   WEDDING   PROCESSION «  g£ 

JIM   STANDING   A    SIEGE "  ^ 

RESCUE   OF   JIM ««  9g 

MAP "  108 

HOMEWARD   BOUND «  IIO 


TOM  SA  WYER,  DE  TECTIVE 

''I    RECKON   I    GOT   TO    BE   EXCUSED*".       .  "  jjg 

"'SWEAR  YOU'LL  BE  GOOD  TO  ME'"    ...  <«  I24 

"'SOUNDED  LIKE  COCKING  A   GUN!'"    .....  «  I26 

'  '  WE   STOOD   UP  AND  WAITED,  PERFECTLY  STILL  '  "  130 

'  'SEARCHED  HIS  SEAMS  AND  HIS  POCKETS'".     .  "  I34 

"WALKED  ASHORE"  ...........  ««  I36 

"IT   WAS   JAKE   DUNLAP'S   GHOST"     ......  "  J^Q 

•'  'WAS  THE  GHOST  BAREFOOTED?'"  ......  «•  T^ 

"SMOKED    AND    STUFFED    WATERMELON"     ....  I5O 

"HUCK,  IT'S  GONE!"  ...........  «'  I52 

"'WHAT  DOES  HE  THINK?"    ........  «•  c 


VI 1 

"'I   STRUCK   TO   KILL'" Facing  page  iSo 

"  AND    THERE  WAS  THE   MURDERED  MAN  ".       .       ,       .  "  l82 

"WHICH    MADE    HIM    FEEL   UNCOMMONLY    BULLY"     .  "  184 

14  TOM   GIVE   HALF  OF   IT   TO  ME".      .  "  l88 


MAP    OF  PARIS 
MAP  OF   PARIS Page          407 


TOM   SAWYER   ABROAD 


TOM  SAWYER  ABROAD 

' 

CHAPTER   I 

TOM   SEEKS   NEW  ADVENTURES 

Do  you  reckon  Tom  Sawyer  was  satisfied  after  all  them 
adventures  ?  I  mean  the  adventures  we  had  down  the  river, 
and  the  time  we  set  the  darky  Jim  free  and  Tom  got  shot 
in  the  leg.  No,  he  wasn't.  "It  only  just  p'isoned  him  for 
more.  That  was  all  the  effect  it  had.  You  see,  when  we 
three  came  back  up  the  river  in  glory,  as  you  may  say, 
from  that  long  travel,  and  the  village  received  us  with  a 
torchlight  procession  and  speeches,  and  everybody  hurrah'd 
and  shouted,  it  made  us  heroes,  and  that  was  what  Tom 
Sawyer  had  always  been  hankering  to  be. 

For  a  while  he  was  satisfied.  Everybody  made  much  of 
him,  and  he  tilted  up  his  nose  and  stepped  around  the  town 
as  though  he  owned  it.  Some  called  him  Tom  Sawyer  the 
Traveller,  and  that  just  swelled  him  up  fit  to  bust.  You  see 
he  laid  over  me  and  Jim  considerable,  because  we  only  went 
down  the  river  on  a  raft  and  came  back  by  the  steamboat, 
but  Tom  went  by  the  steamboat  both  ways.  The  boys  en 
vied  me  and  Jim  a  good  deal,  but  land !  they  just  knuckled 
to  the  dirt  before  TOM. 

Well,  I  don't  know ;  maybe  he  might  have  been  satisfied 
if  it  hadn't  been  for  old  Nat  Parsons,  which  was  postmaster, 


and  powerful  long  and  slim,  and  kind  o'  good-hearted  and 
silly,  and  bald-headed,  on  account  of  his  age,  and  about  the 
talkiest  old  cretur  I  ever  see.  For  as  much  as  thirty  years 
he'd  been  the  only  man  in  the  village  that  had  a  reputation 
— I  mean  a  reputation  for  being  a  traveller,  and  of  course 
he  was  mortal  proud  of  it,  and  it  was  reckoned  that  in  the 
course  of  that  thirty  years  he  had  told  about  that  journey 
over  a  million  times  and  enjoyed  it  every  time.  And  now 
comes  along  a  boy  not  quite  fifteen,  and  sets  everybody  ad 
miring  and  gawking  over  his  travels,  and  it  just  give  the 
poor  old  man  the  high  strikes.  It  made  him  sick  to  listen 
to  Tom,  and  to  hear  the  people  say  "  My  land  !"  "  Did  you 
ever !"  "  My  goodness  sakes  alive !"  and  all  such  things ; 
but  he  couldn't  pull  away  from  it,  any  more  than  a  fly 
that's  got  its  hind  leg  fast  in  the  molasses.  And  always 
when  Tom  come  to  a  rest,  the  poor  old  cretur  would  chip 
in  on  his  same  old  travels  and  work  them  for  all  they  were 
worth,  but  they  were  pretty  faded,  and  didn't  go  for  much, 
and  it  was  pitiful  to  see.  And  then  Tom  would  take  an 
other  innings,  and  then  the  old  man  again — and  so  on,  and 
so  on,  for  an  hour  and  more,  each  trying  to  beat  out  the 
other. 

You  see,  Parsons'  travels  happened  like  this :  When  he 
first  got  to  be  postmaster  and  was  green  in  the  business, 
there  come  a  letter  for  somebody  he  didn't  know,  and  there 
wasn't  any  such  person  in  the  village.  Well,  he  didn't 
know  what  to  do,  nor  how  to  act,  and  there  the  letter  stayed 
and  stayed,  week  in  and  week  out,  till  the  bare  sight  of  it 
gave  him  a  conniption.  The  postage  wasn't  paid  on  it, 
and  that  was  another  thing  to  worry  about.  There  wasn't 
any  way  to  collect  that  ten  cents,  and  he  reckon'd  the 
Gov'ment  would  hold  him  responsible  for  it  and  maybe  turn 
him  out  besides,  when  they  found  he  hadn't  collected  it. 
Well,  at  last  he  couldn't  stand  it  any  longer.  He  couldn't 


5 

sleep  nights,  he  couldn't  eat,  he  was  thinned  down  to  a 
shadder,  yet  he  da'sn't  ask  anybody's  advice,  for  the  very 
person  he  asked  for  advice  might  go  back  on  him  and  let 
the  Gov'ment  know  about  the  letter.  He  had  the  letter 
buried  under  the  floor,  but  that  did  no  good  ,•  if  he  hap 
pened  to  see  a  person  standing  over  the  place  it  'd  give  him 
the  cold  shivers,  and  loaded  him  up  with  suspicions,  and  he 
would  sit  up  that  night  till  the  town  was  still  and  dark, 
and  then  he  would  sneak  there  and  get  it  out  and  bury  it  in 
another  place.  Of  course  people  got  to  avoiding  him  and 
shaking  their  heads  and  whispering,  because,  the  way  he 
was  looking  and  acting,  they  judged  he  had  killed  somebody 
or  done  something  terrible,  they  didn't  know  what,  and  if 
he  had  been  a  stranger  they  would  've  lynched  him. 

Well,  as  I  was  saying,  it  got  so  he  couldn't  stand  it  any 
longer ;  so  he  made  up  his  mind  to  pull  out  for  Washing 
ton,  and  just  go  to  the  President  of  the  United  States  and 
make  a  clean  breast  of  the  whole  thing,  not  keeping  back 
an  atom,  and  then  fetch  the  letter  out  and  lay  it  before  the 
whole  Gov'ment,  and  say,  "  Now,  there  she  is— do  with  me 
what  you're  a  mind  to ;  though  as  heaven  is  my  judge  I  am 
an  innocent  man  and  not  deserving  of  the  full  penalties  of 
the  law  and  leaving  behind  me  a  family  that  must  starve  and 
yet  hadn't  had  a  thing  to  do  with  it,  which  is  the  whole  truth 
and  I  can  swear  to  it." 

So  he  did  it.  He  had  a  little  wee  bit  of  steamboating, 
and  some  stage-coaching,  but  all  the  rest  of  the  way  was 
horseback,  and  it  took  him  three  weeks  to  get  to  Washing 
ton.  He  saw  lots  of  land  and  lots  of  villages  and  four  cities. 
He  was  gone  'most  eight  weeks,  and  there  never  was  such 
a  proud  man  in  the  village  as  when  he  got  back.  His  trav 
els  made  him  the  greatest  man  in  all  that  region,  and  the 
most  talked  about ;  and  people  come  from  as  much  as  thirty 
miles  back  in  the  country,  and  from  over  in  the  Illinois  hot- 


toms,  too,  just  to  look  at  him — and  there  they'd  stand  and 
gawk,  and  he'd  gabble.  You  never  see  anything  like  it. 

Well,  there  wasn't  any  way,  now,  to  settle  which  was 
the  greatest  traveller ;  some  said  it  was  Nat,  some  said  it 
was  Tom.  Everybody  allowed  that  Nat  had  seen  the  most 
longitude,  but  they  had  to  give  in  that  whatever  Tom  was 
short  in  longitude  he  had  made  up  in  latitude  and  climate. 
It  was  about  a  stand-off ;  so  both  of  them  had  to  whoop 
up  their  dangerous  adventures,  and  try  to  get  ahead  that 
way.  That  bullet-wound  in  Tom's  leg  was  a  tough  thing 
for  Nat  Parsons  to  buck  against,  but  he  bucked  the  best 
he  could  ;  and  at  a  disadvantage,  too,  for  Tom  didn't  set 
still  as  he'd  orter  done,  to  be  fair,  but  always  got  up  and 
sauntered  around  and  worked  his  limp  while  Nat  was  paint 
ing  up  the  adventure  that  he  had  in  Washington  ;  for  Tom 
never  let  go  that  limp  when  his  leg  got  well,  but  prac 
tised  it  nights  at  home,  and  kept  it  good  as  new  right 
along. 

Nat's  adventure  was  like  this ;  I  don't  know  how  true  it 
is ;  maybe  he  got  it  out  of  a  paper,  or  somewhere,  but  I 
will  say  this  for  him,  that  he  did  know  how  to  tell  it.  He 
could  make  anybody's  flesh  crawl,  and  he'd  turn  pale  and 
hold  his  breath  when  he  told  it,  and  sometimes  women  and 
girls  got  so  faint  they  couldn't  stick  it  out.  Well,  it  was 
this  way,  as  near  as  I  can  remember : 

He  come  a-loping  into  Washington,  and  put  up  his  horse 
and  shoved  out  to  the  President's  house  with  his  letter,  and 
they  told  him  the  President  was  up  to  the  Capitol,  and 
just  going  to  start  for  Philadelphia — not  a  minute  to  lose 
if  he  wanted  to  catch  him.  Nat  'most  dropped,  it  made 
him  so  sick.  His  horse  was  put  up,  and  he  didn't  know 
what  to  do.  But  just  then  along  comes  a  darky  driving  an 
old  ramshackly  hack,  and  he  see  his  chance.  He  rushes 
out  and  shouts :  "  A  half  a  dollar  if  you  git  me  to  the  Capi- 


tol  in  half  an  hour,  and  a  quarter  extra  if  you  do  it  in 
twenty  minutes  !" 

"  Done  !"  says  the  darky. 

Nat  he  jumped  in  and  slammed  the  door,  and  away  they 
went  a-ripping  and  a-tearing  over  the  roughest  road  a  body 
ever  see,  and  the  racket  of  it  was  something  awful.  Nat 
passed  his  arms  through  the  loops  and  hung  on  for  life  and 
death,  but  pretty  soon  the  hack  hit  a  rock  and  flew  up  in 
the  air,  and  the  bottom  fell  out,  and  when  it  come  down 
Nat's  feet  was  on  the  ground,  and  he  see  he  was  in  the 
most  desperate  danger  if  he  couldn't  keep  up  with  the 
hack.  He  was  horrible  scared,  but  he  laid  into  his  work 
for  all  he  was  worth,  and  hung  tight  to  the  arm-loops  and 
made  his  legs  fairly  fly.  He  yelled  and  shouted  to  the' 
driver  to  stop,  and  so  did  the  crowds  along  the  street,  for 
they  could  see  his  legs  spinning  along  under  the  coach, 
and  his  head  and  shoulders  bobbing  inside,  through  the 
windows,  and  he  was  in  awful  danger ;  but  the  more  they 
all  shouted  the  more  the  nigger  whooped  and  yelled  and 
lashed  the  horses  and  shouted,  "  Don't  you  fret,  I's  gwine 
to  git  you  dah  in  time,  boss ;  I's  gwine  to  do  it,  sho' !"  for 
you  see  he  thought  they  were  all  hurrying  him  up,  and  of 
course  he  couldn't  hear  anything  for  the  racket  he  was 
making.  And  so  they  went  ripping  along,  and  everybody 
just  petrified  to  see  it ;  and  when  they  got  to  the  Capitol 
at  last  it  was  the  quickest  trip  that  ever  was  made,  and 
everybody  said  so.  The  horses  laid  down,  and  Nat  dropped, 
all  tuckered  out,  and  he  was  all  dust  and  rags  and  bare 
footed  ;  but  he  was  in  time  and  just  in  time,  and  caught 
the  President  and  give  him  the  letter,  and  everything  was 
all  right,  and  the  President  give  him  a  free  pardon  on  the 
spot,  and  Nat  give  the  nigger  two  extra  quarters  instead  of 
one,  because  he  could  see  that  if  he  hadn't  had  the  hack 
he  wouldn't  'a'  got  there  in  time,  nor  anywhere  near  it. 


8 


It  was  a  powerful  good  adventure,  and  Tom  Sawyer  had 
to  work  his  bullet-wound  mighty  lively  to  hold  his  own 
against  it. 

Well,  by-and-by  Tom's  glory  got  to  paling  down  gradu'ly, 
on  account  of  other  things  turning  up  for  the  people  to  talk 
about — first  a  horse-race,  and  on  top  of  that  a  house  afire, 
and  on  top  of  that  the  circus,  and  on  top  of  that  the  eclipse  ; 
and  that  started  a  revival,  same  as  it  always  does,  and 
by  that  time  there  wasn't  any  more  talk  about  Tom,  so 
to  speak,  and  you  never  see  a  person  so  sick  and  dis 
gusted. 

Pretty  soon  he  got  to  worrying  and  fretting  right  along  day 
in  and  day  out,  and  when  I  asked  him  what  was  he  in  such 
a  state  about,  he  said  it  'most  broke  his  heart  to  think  how 
time  was  slipping  away,  and  him  getting  older  and  older, 
and  no  wars  breaking  out  and  no  way  of  making  a  name 
for  himself  that  he  could  see.  Now  that  is  the  way  boys 
is  always  thinking,  but  he  was  the  first  one  I  ever  heard 
come  out  and  say  it. 

So  then  he  set  to  work  to  get  up  a  plan  to  make  him 
celebrated ;  and  pretty  soon  he  struck  it,  and  offered  to 
take  me  and  Jim  in.  Tom  Sawyer  was  always  free  and 
generous  that  way.  There's  a-plenty  of  boys  that's  mighty 
good  and  friendly  when  you've  got  a  good  thing,  but  when 
a  good  thing  happens  to  come  their  way  they  don't  say  a 
word  to  you,  and  try  to  hog  it  all.  That  warn't  ever  Tom 
Sawyer's  way,  I  can  say  that  for  him.  There's  plenty  of 
boys  that  will  come  hankering  and  grovelling  around  you 
when  you've  got  an  apple,  and  beg  the  core  off  of  you  ; 
but  when  they've  got  one,  and  you  beg  for  the  coie  and 
remind  them  how  you  give  them  a  core  one  time,  they  say 
thank  you  'most  to  death,  but  there  ain't  a-going  to  be  no 
core.  But  I  notice  they  always  git  come  up  with  ;  all  you 
got  to  do  is  to  wait 


Well,  we  went  out  in  the  woods  on  the  hill,  and  Tom 
told  us  what  it  was.  It  was  a  crusade. 

"  What's  a  crusade  ?"  I  says. 

He  looked  scornful  the  way  he's  always  done  when  he 
was  ashamed  of  a  person,  and  says — 

"  Huck  Finn,  do  you  mean  to  tell  me  you  don't  know 
what  a  crusade  is  ?" 

"No,"  says  I,  "I  don't.  And  I  don't  care  to,  nuther. 
I've  lived  till  now  and  done  without  it,  and  had  my  health, 
too.  But  as  soon  as  you  tell  me,  I'll  know,  and  that's  soon 
enough.  I  don't  see  any  use  in  rinding  out  things  and  clog 
ging  up  my  head  with  them  when  I  mayn't  ever  have  any 
occasion  to  use  'em.  There  was  Lance  Williams,  he  learned 
how  to  talk  Choctaw  here  till  one  come  and  dug  his  grave 
for  him.  Now,  then,  what's  a  crusade?  But  I  can  tell 
you  one  thing  before  you  begin ;  if  it's  a  patent-right,  there's 
no  money  in  it.  Bill  Thompson  he — " 

"  Patent-right !"  says  he.  "  I  never  see  such  an  idiot. 
Why,  a  crusade  is  a  kind  of  war." 

I  thought  he  must  be  losing  his  mind.  But  no,  he  was 
in  real  earnest,  and  went  right  on,  perfectly  ca'm : 

"  A  crusade  is  a  war  to  recover  the  Holy  Land  from  the 
paynim." 

"  Which  Holy  Land  ?" 

"  Why,  the  Holy  Land— there  ain't  but  one." 

"  What  do  we  want  of  it  ?" 

"Why,  can't  you  understand?  It's  in  the  hands  of 
the  paynim,  and  it's  our  duty  to  take  it  away  from 
them." 

"  How  did  we  come  to  let  them  git  hold  of  it  ?" 

"  We  didn't  come  to  let  them  git  hold  of  it.  They  al 
ways  had  it." 

"  Why,  Tom,  then  it  must  belong  to  them,  don't  it  ?" 

"  Why  of  course  it  does.     Who  said  it  didn't  ?" 


10 


I  studied  over  it,  but  couldn't  seem  to  git  at  the  right 
of  it,  no  way.  •  I  says  : 

"  It's  too  many  for  me,  Tom  Sawyer.  If  I  had  a  farm 
and  it  was  mine,  and  another  person  wanted  it,  would  it  be 
right  for  him  to — 

"  Oh,  shucks  !  you  don't  know  enough  to  come  in  when  it 
rains,  Huck  Finn.  It  ain't  a  farm,  it's  entirely  different. 
You  see,  it's  like  this.  They  own  the  land,  just  the  mere 
hand,  and  that's  all  they  do  own ;  but  it  was  our  folks,  our 
Jews  and  Christians,  that  made  it  holy,  and  so  they  haven't 
any  business  to  be  there  defiling  it.  It's  a  shame,  and  we 
ought  not  to  stand  it  a  minute.  We  ought  to  march  against 
them  and  take  it  away  from  them." 

"  Why,  it  does  seem  to  me  it's  the  most  mixed-up  thing 
I  ever  see !  Now  if  I  had  a  farm  and  another  person — " 

"  Don't  I  tell  you  it  hasn't  got  anything  to  do  with  farm 
ing  ?  Farming  is  business,  just  common  low-down  busi 
ness  ;  that's  all  it  is,  it's  all  you  can  say  for  it ;  but  this  is 
higher,  this  is  religious,  and  totally  different." 

"  Religious  to  go  and  take  the  land  away  from  people 
that  owns  it?" 

"  Certainly  ;  it's  always  been  considered  so." 

Jim  he  shook  his  head,  and  says  : 

"  Mars  Tom,  I  reckon  dey's  a  mistake  about  it  somers — 
dey  mos'  sholy  is.  I's  religious  myself,  en  I  knows  plenty 
religious  people,  but  I  hain't  run  across  none  dat  acts  like 
dat" 

It  made  Tom  hot,  and  he  says  : 

"Well,  it's  enough  to  make  a  body  sick,  such  mullet- 
headed  ignorance  !  If  either  of  you'd  read  anything  about 
history,  you'd  know  that  Richard  Cur  de  Loon,  and  the 
Pope,  and  Godfrey  de  Bulleyn,  and  lots  more  of  the  most 
noble-hearted  and  pious  people  in  the  world,  hacked  and 
hammered  at  the  paynims  for  more  than  two  hundred  years 


9 


II 


trying  to  take  their  land  away  from  them,  and  swum  neck- 
deep  in  blood  the  whole  time — and  yet  here's  a  couple  of 
sap-headed  country  yahoos  out  in  the  backwoods  of  Mis 
souri,  setting  themselves  up  to  know  more  about  the  rights 
and  wrongs  of  it  than  they  did  !  Talk  about  cheek !" 

Well,  of  course,  that  put  a  more  different  light  on  it,  and 
me  and  Jim  felt  pretty  cheap  and  ignorant,  and  wished  we 
hadn't  been  quite  so  chipper.  I  couldn't  say  nothing,  and 
Jim  he  couldn't  for  a  while ;  then  he  says : 

"Well,  den,  I  reckon  it's  all  right;  beca'se  ef  dey  didn't 
know,  dey  ain't  no  use  for  po'  ignorant  folks  like  us  to  be 
trying  to  know ;  en  so,  ef  it's  our  duty,  we  got  to  go  en 
tackle  it  en  do  de  bes'  we  can.  Same  time,  I  feel  as  sorry 
for  dem  paynims  as  Mars  Tom.  De  hard  part  gwine  to  be 
to  kill  folks  dat  a  body  hain't  been  'quainted  wid  and  dat 
hain't  done  him  no  harm.  Dat's  it,  you  see.  Efwewuztogo 
'mongst  'em,  jist  we  three,  en  say  we's  hungry,  en  ast  'em 
for  a  bite  to  eat,  why,  maybe  dey's  jist  like  yuther  people. 
Don't  you  reckon  dey  is  ?  Why,  dey*d  give  it,  I  know  dey  ; 
would,  en  den — "  *~ ^ 

"Then  what?" 

"  Well,  Mars  Tom,  my  idea  is  like  dis.  It  ain't  no  use, 
we  can't  kill  dem  po'  strangers  dat  ain't  doin'  us  no  harm, 
till  we've  had  practice — I  knows  it  perfectly  well,  Mars 
Tom — 'deed  I  knows  it  perfectly  well.  But  ef  we  takes  a' 
ax  or  two,  jist  you  en  me  en  Huck,  en  slips  acrost  de 
river  to-night  arter  de  moon's  gone  down,  en  kills  dat  sick 
fam'ly  dat's  over  on  the  Sny,  en  burns  dey  house  down, 
en—" 

"Oh,  you  make  me  tired !"  says  Tom.  "  I  don't  want 
to  argue  any  more  with  people  like  you  and  Huck  Finn, 
that's  always  wandering  from  the  subject,  and  ain't  got  any 
more  sense  than  to  try  to  reason  out  a  thing  that's  pure 
theology  by  the  laws  that  protect  real  estate  1" 


12 

Now  that's  just  where  Tom  Sawyer  warn't  fair.  Jim 
didn't  mean  no  harm,  and  I  didn't  mean  no  harm.  We 
knowed  well  enough  that  he  was  right  and  we  was  wrong, 
and  all  we  was  after  was  to  get  at  the  how  of  it,  and  that 
was  all ;  and  the  only  reason  he  couldn't  explain  it  so  we 
could  understand  it  was  because  we  was  ignorant — yes, 
and  pretty  dull,  too,  I  ain't  denying  that ;  but,  land !  that 
ain't  no  crime,  I  should  think. 

But  he  wouldn't  hear  no  more  about  it — just  said  if  we 
had  tackled  the  thing  in  the  proper  spirit,  he  would  'a' 
raised  a  couple  of  thousand  knights  and  put  them  in  steel 
armor  from  head  to  heel,  and  made  me  a  lieutenant  and 
Jim  a  sutler,  and  took  the  command  himself  and  brushed 
the  whole  paynim  outfit  into  the  sea  like  flies  and  come 
back  across  the  world  in  a  glory  like  sunset.  But  he  said 
we  didn't  know  enough  to  take  the  chance  when  we  had  it, 
and  he  wouldn't  ever  offer  it  again.  And  he  didn't.  When 
he  once  got  set,  you  couldn't  budge  him. 

But  I  didn't  care  much.  I  am  peaceable,  and  don't  get 
up  rows  with  people  that  ain't  doing  nothing  to  me.  I 
allowed  if  the  paynim  was  satisfied  I  was,  and  we  would  let 
it  stand  at  that. 

Now  Tom  he  got  all  that  notion  out  of  Walter  Scott's 
book,  which  he  was  always  reading.  And  it  was  a  wild 
notion,  because  in  my  opinion  he  never  could  've  raised  the 
men,  and  if  he  did,  as  like  as  not  he  would  've  got  licked. 
I  took  the  book  and  read  all  about  it,  and  as  near  as  I 
could  make  it  out,  most  of  the  folks  that  shook  farming  to 
go  crusading  had  a  mighty  rocky  time  of  it. 


CHAPTER   II 
THE    BALLOON    ASCENSION 

WELL,  Tom  got  up  one  thing  after  another,  but  they  all 
had  tender  spots  about  'em  somewheres,  and  he  had  to 
shove  'em  aside.  So  at  last  he  was  about  in  despair. 
Then  the  St.  Louis  papers  begun  to  talk  a  good  deal  about 
the  balloon  that  was  going  to  sail  to  Europe,  and  Tom 
sort  of  thought  he  wanted  to  go  down  and  see  what  it 
looked  like,  but  couldn't  make  up  his  mind.  But  the 
papers  went  on  talking,  and  so  he  allowed  that  maybe 
if  he  didn't  go  he  mightn't  ever  have  another  chance  to 
see  a  balloon ;  and  next,  he  found  out  that  Nat  Parsons 
was  going  down  to  see  it,  and  that  decided  him,  of  course. 
He  wasn't  going  to  have  Nat  Parsons  coming  back  brag 
ging  about  seeing  the  balloon,  and  him  having  to  listen  to  it 
and  keep  quiet.  So  he  wanted  me  and  Jim  to  go  too,  and 
we  went. 

It  was  a  noble  big  balloon,  and  had  wings  and  fans  and 
all  sorts  of  things,  and  wasn't  like  any  balloon  you  see  in 
pictures.  It  was  away  out  toward  the  edge  of  town,  in  a 
vacant  lot,  corner  of  Twelfth  Street;  and  there  was  a  big 
crowd  around  it,  making  fun  of  it,  and  making  fun  of  the 
man, — a  lean  pale  feller  with  that  soft  kind  of  moonlight  in 
his  eyes,  you  know, — and  they  kept  saying  it  wouldn't  go. 
It  made  him  hot  to  hear  them,  and  he  would  turn  on  them 
and  shake  his  fist  and  say  they  was  animals  and  blind,  but 
some  day  they  would  find  they  had  stood  face  to  face  with 


14 

one  of  the  men  that  lifts  up  nations  and  makes  civiliza 
tions,  and  was  too  dull  to  know  it;  and  right  here  on  this 
spot  their  own  children  and  grandchildren  would  build  a 
monument  to  him  that  would  outlast  a  thousand  years,  but 
his  name  would  outlast  the  monument.  And  then  the 
crowd  would  burst  out  in  a  laugh  again,  and  yell  at  him, 
and  ask  him  what  was  his  name  before  he  was  married, 
and  what  he  would  take  to  not  do  it,  and  what  was  his  sis 
ter's  cat's  grandmother's  nama,  and  all  the  things  that  a 
crowd  says  when  they've  got  hold  of  a  feller  that  they  see 
they  can  plague.  Well,  some  things  they  said  was  funny,— 
yes,  and  mighty  witty  too,  I  ain't  denying  that,  —  but  all 
the  same  it  warn't  fair  nor  brave,  all  them  people  pitching 
on  one,  and  they  so  glib  and  sharp,  and  him  without  any 
gift  of  talk  to  answer  back  with.  But,  good  land !  what 
did  he  want  to  sass  back  for  ?  You  see,  it  couldn't  do  him 
no  good,  and  it  was  just  nuts  for  them.  They  had  him, 
you  know.  But  that  was  his  way.  I  reckon  he  couldn't 
help  it ;  he  was  made  so,  I  judge.  He  was  a  good-enough 
sort  of  cretur,  and  hadn't  no  harm  in  him,  and  was  just  a 
genius,  as  the  papers  said,  which  wasn't  his  fault.  We  can't 
all  be  sound  :  we've  got  to  be  the  way  we're  made.  As 
near  as  I  can  make  out,  geniuses  think  they  know  it  all, 
and  so  they  won't  take  people's  advice,  but  always  go  their 
own  way,  which  makes  everybody  forsake  them  and  despise 
them,  and  that  is  perfectly  natural.  If  they  was  humbler, 
and  listened  and  tried  to  learn,  it  would  be  better  for  them. 

The  part  the  professor  was  in  was  like  a  boat,  and  was 
big  and  roomy,  and  had  water-tight  lockers  around  the  in 
side  to  keep  all  sorts  of  things  in,  and  a  body  could  sit 
on  them,  and  make  beds  on  them,  too.  We  went  aboard, 
and  there  was  twenty  people  there,  snooping  around  and 
examining,  and  old  Nat  Parsons  was  there,  too.  The  pro 
fessor  kept  fussing  around,  getting  ready,  and  the  people 


went  ashore,  drifting  out  one  at  a  time,  and  old  Nat  he  was 
the  last.  Of  course  it  wouldn't  do  to  let  him  go  out  behind 
us.  We  mustn't  budge  till  he  was  gone,  so  we  could  be 
last  ourselves. 

But  he  was  gone  now,  so  it  was  time  for  us  to  follow. 
I  heard  a  big  shout,  and  turned  around  —  the  city  was 
dropping  from  under  us  like  a  shot !  It  made  me  sick 
all  through,  I  was  so  scared.  Jim  turned  gray  and  couldn't 
say  a  word,  and  Tom  didn't  say  nothing,  but  looked  ex 
cited.  The  city  went  on  dropping  down,  and  down,  and 
down  ;  but  we  didn't  seem  to  be  doing  nothing  but  just 
hang  in  the  air  and  stand  still.  The  houses  got  smaller  and 
smaller,  and  the  city  pulled  itself  together,  closer  and  closer, 
and  the  men  and  wagons  got  to  looking  like  ants  and  bugs 
crawling  around,  and  the  streets  like  threads  and  cracks; 
and  then  it  all  kind  of  melted  together,  and  there  wasn't 
any  city  any  more  :  it  was  only  a  big  scar  on  the  earth, 
and  it  seemed  to  me  a  body  could  see  up  the  river  and 
down  the  river  about  a  thousand  miles,  though  of  course 
it  wasn't  so  much.  By-and-by  the  earth  was  a  ball  —  just 
a  round  ball,  of  a  dull  color,  with  shiny  stripes  wriggling 
and  winding  around  over  it,  which  was  rivers.  The  Widder 
Douglas  always  told  me  the  earth  was  round  like  a  ball, 
but  I  never  took  any  stock  in  a  lot  of  them  superstitions 
o'  hers,  and  of  course  I  paid  no  attention  to  that  one, 
because  I  could  see  myself  that  the  world  was  the  shape 
of  a  plate,  and  flat.  I  used  to  go  up  on  the  hill,  and  take 
a  look  around  and  prove  it  for  myself,  because  I  reckon 
the  best  way  to  get  a  sure  thing  on  a  fact  is  to  go  and 
examine  for  yourself,  and  not  take  anybody's  say-so.  But 
I  had  to  give  in,  now,  that  the  widder  was  right.  That 
is,  she  was  right  as  to  the  rest  of  the  world,  but  she  warn't 
right  about  the  part  our  village  is  in  ;  that  part  is  the  shape 
of  a  plate,  and  flat,  I  take  my  oath ! 


i6 


The  professor  had  been  quiet  all  this  time,  as  if  he  was 
asleep;  but  he  broke  loose  now,  and  he  was  mighty  bitter. 
He  says  something  like  this : 

"  Idiots !  They  said  it  wouldn't  go;  and  they  wanted  to 
examine  it,  and  spy  around  and  get  the  secret  of  it  out  of 
me.  But  I  beat  them.  Nobody  knows  the  secret  but  me. 
Nobody  knows  what  makes  it  move  but  me;  and  it's  a  new 
power — a  new  power,  and  a  thousand  times  the  strongest 
in  the  earth  !  Steam's  foolishness  to  it !  They  said  I 
couldn't  go  to  Europe.  To  Europe  !  Why,  there's  power 
aboard  to  last  five  years,  and  feed  for  three  months.  They 
are  fools !  What  do  they  know  about  it  ?  Yes,  and  they 
said  my  air-ship  was  flimsy.  Why,  she's  good  for  fifty 
years  !  I  can  sail  the  skies  all  my  life  if  I  want  to,  and 
steer  where  I  please,  though  they  laughed  at  that,  and 
said  I  couldn't.  Couldn't  steer!  Come  here,  boy;  we'll 
see.  You  press  these  buttons  as  I  tell  you." 

He  made  Tom  steer  the  ship  all  about  and  every  which 
way,  and  learnt  him  the  whole  thing  in  nearly  no  time ; 
and  Tom  said  it  was  perfectly  easy.  He  made  him  fetch 
the  ship  down  'most  to  the  earth,  and  had  him  spin  her 
along  so  close  to  the  Illinois  prairies  that  a  body  could 
talk  to  the  farmers,  and  hear  everything  they  said  per 
fectly  plain ;  and  he  flung  out  printed  bills  to  them  that 
told  about  the  balloon,  and  said  it  was  going  to  Europe. 
Tom  got  so  he  could  steer  straight  for  a  tree  till  he  got 
nearly  to  it,  and  then  dart  up  and  skin  right  along  over  the 
top  of  it.  Yes,  and  he  showed  Tom  how  to  land  her;  and 
he  done  it  first-rate,  too,  and  set  her  down  in  the  prairies 
as  soft  as  wool.  But  the  minute  we  started  to  skip  out 
the  professor  says,  "  No,  you  don't !"  and  shot  her  up  in  the 
air  again.  It  was  awful.  I  begun  to  beg,  and  so  did  Jim ;  but 
it  only  give  his  temper  a  rise,  and  he  begun  to  rage  around 
and  look  wild  out  of  his  eyes,  and  I  was  scared  of  him. 


Well,  then  he  got  on  to  his  troubles  again,  and  mourned 
and  grumbled  about  the  way  he  was  treated,  and  couldn't 
seem  to  git  over  it,  and  especially  people's  saying  his  ship 
was  flimsy.  He  scoffed  at  that,  and  at  their  saying  she 
warn't  simple  and  would  be  always  getting  out  of  order. 
Get  out  of  order  !  That  gravelled  him ;  he  said  that  she 
couldn't  any  more  get  out  of  order  than  the  solar  sister. 

He  got  worse  and  worse,  and  I  never  see  a  person  take 
on  so.  It  give  me  the  cold  shivers  to  see  him,  and  so  it 
did  Jim.  By-and-by  he  got  to  yelling  and  screaming,  and 
then  he  swore  the  world  shouldn't  ever  have  his  secret 
at  all  now,  it  had  treated  him  so  mean.  He  said  he  would 
sail  his  balloon  around  the  globe  just  to  show  what  he 
could  do,  and  then  he  would  sink  it  in  the  sea,  and  sink  us 
all  along  with  it,  too.  Well,  it  was  the  awfulest  fix  to  be 
in,  and  here  was  night  coming  on ! 

He  give  us  something  to  eat,  and  made  us  go  to  the 
other  end  of  the  boat,  and  he  laid  down  on  a  locker,  where 
he  could  boss  all  the  works,  and  put  his  old  pepper-box 
revolver  under  his  head,  and  said  if  anybody  come  fooling 
around  there  trying  to  land  her,  he  would  kill  him. 

We  set  scrunched  up  together,  and  thought  considerable, 
but  didn't  say  much — only  just  a  word  once  in  a  while 
when  a  body  had  to  say  something  or  bust,  we  was  so 
scared  and  worried.  The  night  dragged  along  slow  and 
lonesome.  We  was  pretty  low  down,  and  the  moonshine 
made  everything  soft  and  pretty,  and  the  farm-houses 
looked  snug  and  homeful,  and  we  could  hear  the  farm 
sounds,  and  wished  we  could  be  down  there ;  but,  laws ! 
we  just  slipped  along  over  them  like  a  ghost,  and  never  left 
a  track. 

Away  in  the  night,  when  all  the  sounds  was  late  sounds, 
and  the  air  had  a  late  feel,  and  a  late  smell,  too, — about 

a  two-o'clock  feel,  as  near  as  I  could  make  out, — Tom  said 
ara 


iS 


the  professor  was  so  quiet  this  time  he  must  be  asleep,  and 
we'd  better — 

"  Better  what  ?"  I  says  in  a  whisper,  and  feeling  sick  all 
over,  because  I  knowed  what  he  was  thinking  about. 

"  Better  slip  back  there  and  tie  him,  and  land  the  ship," 
he  says. 

I  says:    "No,  sir!     Don't  you  budge,  Tom  Sawyer." 

And  Jim  — well,  Jim  was  kind  o'  gasping,  he  was  so 
scared.  He  says : 

"Oh,  Mars  Tom,  don't!  Ef  you  teches  him,  we's  gone 
— we's  gone  sho' !  I  ain't  gwine  anear  him,  not  for  nothin' 
in  dis  worl'.  Mars  Tom,  he's  plumb  crazy." 

Tom  whispers  and  says  :  "  That's  why  we've  got  to  do 
something.  If  he  wasn't  crazy  I  wouldn't  give  shucks  to 
be  anywhere  but  here ;  you  couldn't  hire  me  to  get  out, — 
now  that  I've  got  used  to  this  balloon  and  over  the  scare 
of  being  cut  loose  from  the  solid  ground,  —  if  he  was  in 
his  right  mind.  But  it's  no  good  politics,  sailing  around 
like  this  with  a  person  that's  out  of  his  head,  and  says 
he's  going  round  the  world  and  then  drown  us  all.  We've 
got  to  do  something,  I  tell  you,  and  do  it  before  he  wakes 
up,  too,  or  we  mayn't  ever  get  another  chance.  Come  !" 

But  it  made  us  turn  cold  and  creepy  just  to  think  of  it, 
and  we  said  we  wouldn't  budge.  So  Tom  was  for  slipping 
back  there  by  himself  to  see  if  he  couldn't  get  at  the  steer 
ing-gear  and  land  the  ship.  We  begged  and  begged  him 
not  to,  but  it  warn't  no  use ;  so  he  got  down  on  his  hands 
and  knees,  and  begun  to  crawl  an  inch  at  a  time,  we  a-hold- 
ing  our  breath  and  watching.  After  he  got  to  the  middle 
of  the  boat  he  crept  slower  than  ever,  and  it  did  seem 
like  years  to  me.  But  at  last  we  see  him  get  to  the  pro 
fessor's  head,  and  sort  of  raise  up  soft  and  look  a  good 
spell  in  his  face  and  listen.  Then  we  see  him  begin  to 
inch  along  again  toward  the  professor's  feet  where  the 


AND    HERE    WAS    NIGHT    COMING    ON!' 


19 

steering-buttons  was.  Well,  he  got  there  all  safe,  and  was 
reaching  slow  and  steady  toward  the  buttons,  but  he 
knocked  down  something  that  made  a  noise,  and  we  see 
him  slump  down  flat  an'  soft  in  the  bottom,  and  lay  still. 
The  professor  stirred,  and  says,  "  What's  that  ?"  But  every 
body  kept  dead  still  and  quiet,  and  he  begun  to  mutter  and 
mumble  and  nestle,  like  a  person  that's  going  to  wake  up, 
and  I  thought  I  was  going  to  die,  I  was  so  worried  and 
scared. 

Then  a  cloud  slid  over  the  moon,  and  I  'most  cried,  I 
was  so  glad.  She  buried  herself  deeper  and  deeper  into 
the  cloud,  and  it  got  so  dark  we  couldn't  see  Tom.  Then 
it  began  to  sprinkle  rain,  and  we  could  hear  the  professor 
fussing  at  his  ropes  and  things  and  abusing  the  weather. 
We  was  afraid  every  minute  he  would  touch  Tom,  and  then 
we  would  be  goners,  and  no  help ;  but  Tom  was  already 
on  his  way  back,  and  when  we  felt  his  hands  on  our  knees 
my  breath  stopped  sudden,  and  my  heart  fell  down  'mongst 
my  other  works,  because  I  couldn't  tell  in  the  dark  but  it 
might  be  the  professor,  which  I  thought  it  was. 

Dear !  I  was  so  glad  to  have  him  back  that  I  was  just 
as  near  happy  as  a  person  could  be  that  was  up  in  the  air 
that  way  with  a  deranged  man.  You  can't  land  a  balloon 
in  the  dark,  and  so  I  hoped  it  would  keep  on  raining,  for 
I  didn't  want  Tom  to  go  meddling  any  more  and  make  us 
so  awful  uncomfortable.  Well,  I  got  my  wish.  It  drizzled 
and  drizzled  along  the  rest  of  the  night,  which  wasn't  long, 
though  it  did  seem  so ;  and  at  daybreak  it  cleared,  and  the 
world  looked  mighty  soft  and  gray  and  pretty,  and  the 
forests  and  fields  so  good  to  see  again,  and  the  horses  and 
cattle  standing  sober  and  thinking.  Next,  the  sun  come 
a-blazing  up  gay  and  splendid,  and  then  we  began  to  feel 
rusty  and  stretchy,  and  first  we  knowed  we  was  all  asleep. 


CHAPTER   III 
TOM    EXPLAINS 

WE  went  to  sleep  about  four  o'clock,  and  woke  up  about 
eight.  The  professor  was  setting  back  there  at  his  end, 
looking  glum.  He  pitched  us  some  breakfast,  but  he  told 
us  not  to  come  abaft  the  midship  compass.  That  was 
about  the  middle  of  the  boat.  Well,  when  you  are  sharp- 
set,  and  you  eat  and  satisfy  yourself,  everything  looks  pretty 
different  from  what  it  done  before.  It  makes  a  body  feel 
pretty  near  comfortable,  even  when  he  is  up  in  a  balloon 
with  a  genius.  We  got  to  talking  together. 

There  was  one  thing  that  kept  bothering  me,  and  by-and- 
by  I  says : 

"  Tom,  didn't  we  start  east  ?" 

"  Yes/' 

"  How  fast  have  we  been  going  ?" 

"  Well,  you  heard  what  the  professor  said  when  he  was 
raging  round.  Sometimes,  he  said,  we  was  making  fifty 
miles  an  hour,  sometimes  ninety,  sometimes  a  hundred ; 
said  that  with  a  gale  to  help  he  could  make  three  hundred 
any  time,  and  said  if  he  wanted  the  gale,  and  wanted  it 
blowing  the  right  direction,  he  only  had  to  go  up  higher 
or  down  lower  to  find  it." 

"  Well,  then,  it's  just  as  I  reckoned.    The  professor  lied." 

"Why?" 

"  Because  if  we  was  going  so  fast  we  ought  to  be  past 
Illinois,  oughtn't  we  ?" 


21 

"  Certainly." 

"  Well,  we  ain't." 

"  What's  the  reason  we  ain't  ?" 

"  I  know  by  the  color.  We're  right  over  Illinois  yet. 
And  you  can  see  for  yourself  that  Indiana  ain't  in  sight." 

"  I  wonder  what's  the  matter  with  you,  Huck.  You 
know  by  the  color  ?" 

"  Yes,  of  course  I  do." 

"  What's  the  color  got  to  do  with  it  ?" 

"  It's  got  everything  to  do  with  it.  Illinois  is  green, 
Indiana  is  pink.  You  show  me  any  pink  down  here,  if 
you  can.  No,  sir  ;  it's  green." 

"  Indiana  pink  ?    Why,  what  a  lie  !" 

"  It  ain't  no  lie ;  I've  seen  it  on  the  map,  and  it's  pink." 

You  never  see  a  person  so  aggravated  and  disgusted. 
He  says  : 

"  Well,  if  I  was  such  a  numskull  as  you,  Huck  Finn,  I 
would  jump  over.  Seen  it  on  the  map !  Huck  Finn,  did 
you  reckon  the  States  was  the  same  color  out-of-doors  as 
they  are  on  the  map  ?" 

"  Tom  Sawyer,  what's  a  map  for  ?  Ain't  it  to  learn  you 
facts?" 

"  Of  course." 

"  Well,  then,  how's  it  going  to  do  that  if  it  tells  lies  ? 
That's  what  I  want  to  know." 

"  Shucks,  you  muggins  !    It  don't  tell  lies." 

"  It  don't,  don't  it  ?" 

"  No,  it  don't." 

"  All  right,  then ;  if  it  don't,  there  ain't  no  two  States 
the  same  color.  You  git  around  that,  if  you  can,  Tom 
Sawyer." 

He  see  I  had  him,  and  Jim  see  it  too ;  and  I  tell  you,  I 
felt  pretty  good,  for  Tom  Sawyer  was  always  a  hard  person 
to  git  ahead  of.  Jim  slapped  his  leg  and  says : 


22 


"  I  tell  you  /  dat's  smart,  dat's  right  down  smart.  Ain't 
no  use,  Mars  Tom  ;  he  got  you  dis  time,  sho  !"  He  slapped 
his  leg  again,  and  says,  "  My  lan\  but  it  was  smart  one  !" 

I  never  felt  so  good  in  my  life  ;  and  yet  /  didn't  know  I 
was  saying  anything  much  till  it  was  out.  I  was  just  moon 
ing  along,  perfectly  careless,  and  not  expecting  anything 
was  going  to  happen,  and  never  thinking  of  such  a  thing 
at  all,  when,  all  of  a  sudden,  out  it  come.  Why,  it  was 
just  as  much  a  surprise  to  me  as  it  was  to  any  of  them.  It 
was  just  the  same  way  it  is  when  a  person  is  munching 
along  on  a  hunk  of  corn-pone,  and  not  thinking  about  any 
thing,  and  all  of  a  sudden  bites  into  a  diamond.  Now  all 
that  he  knows  first  off  is  that  it's  some  kind  of  gravel  he's 
bit  into ;  but  he  don't  find  out  it's  a  di'mond  till  he  gits  it 
out  and  brushes  off  the  sand  and  crumbs  and  one  thing  or 
another,  and  has  a  look  at  it,  and  then  he's  surprised  and 
glad — yes,  and  proud  too ;  though  when  you  come  to  look 
the  thing  straight  in  the  eye,  he  ain't  entitled  to  as  much 
credit  as  he  would  'a'  been  if  he'd  been  hunting  di'monds. 
You  can  see  the  difference  easy  if  you  think  it  over.  You 
see,  an  accident,  that  way,  ain't  fairly  as  big  a  thing  as  a 
thing  that's  done  a -purpose.  Anybody  could  find  that 
di'mond  in  that  corn-pone ;  but  mind  you,  it's  got  to  be 
somebody  that's  got  that  kind  of  a  corn-pone.  That's  where 
that  feller's  credit  comes  in,  you  see ;  and  that's  where 
mine  comes  in.  I  don't  claim  no  great  things, — I  don't 
reckon  I  could  'a'  done  it  again, — but  I  done  it  that  time ; 
that's  all  I  claim.  And  I  hadn't  no  more  idea  I  could  do 
such  a  thing,  and  warn't  any  more  thinking  about  it  or  try 
ing  to,  than  you  be  this  minute.  Why,  I  was  just  as  ca'm, 
a  body  couldn't  be  any  ca'mer,  and  yet,  all  of  a  sudden, 
out  it  come.  I've  often  thought  of  that  time,  and  I  can 
remember  just  the  way  everything  looked,  same  as  if  it  was 
only  last  week.  I  can  see  it  all :  beautiful  rolling  country 


23 

with  woods  and  fields  and  lakes  for  hundreds  and  hundreds 
of  miles  all  around,  and  towns  and  villages  scattered  every- 
wheres  under  us,  here  and  there  and  yonder;  and  the  pro 
fessor  mooning  over  a  chart  on  his  little  table,  and  Tom's 
cap  flopping  in  the  rigging  where  it  was  hung  up  to  dry. 
And  one  thing  in  particular  was  a  bird  right  alongside,  not 
ten  foot  off,  going  our  way  and  trying  to  keep  up,  but  losing 
ground  all  the  time ;  and  a  railroad  train  doing  the  same 
thing  down  there,  sliding  among  the  trees  and  farms,  and 
pouring  out  a  long  cloud  of  black  smoke  and  now  and  then 
a  little  puff  of  white  ;  and  when  the  white  was  gone  so  long 
you  had  almost  forgot  it,  you  would  hear  a  little  faint 
toot,  and  that  was  the  whistle.  And  we  left  the  bird  and 
the  train  both  behind,  ''way  behind,  and  done  it  easy  too. 

But  Tom  he  was  huffy,  and  said  me  and  Jim  was  a 
couple  of  ignorant  blatherskites,  and  then  he  says : 

"  Suppose  there's  a  brown  calf  and  a  big  brown  dog,  and 
an  artist  is  making  a  picture  of  them.  What  is  the  main 
thing  that  that  artist  has  got  to  do  ?  He  has  got  to  paint 
them  so  you  can  tell  them  apart  the  minute  you  look  at 
them,  hain't  he  ?  Of  course.  Well,  then,  do  you  want  him 
to  go  and  paint  both  of  them  brown  ?  Certainly  you  don't. 
He  paints  one  of  them  blue,  and  then  you  can't  make  no 
mistake.  It's  just  the  same  with  the  maps.  That's  why 
they  make  every  State  a  different  color ;  it  ain't  to  deceive 
you,  it's  to  keep  you  from  deceiving  yourself." 

But  I  couldn't  see  no  argument  about  that,  and  neither 
could  Jim.  Jim  shook  his  head,  and  says  : 

"  Why,  Mars  Tom,  if  you  knowed  what  chuckleheads 
dem  painters  is,  you'd  wait  a  long  time  before  you'd  fetch 
one  er  dem  in  to  back  up  a  fac'.  I's  gwine  to  tell  you,  den 
you  kin  see  for  you'self.  I  see  one  of  'em  a-paintin'  away, 
one  day,  down  in  ole  Hank  Wilson's  back  lot,  en  I  went 
down  to  see,  en  he  was  paiw»«'  d».t  sld  brindta  eew  wicl 


24 

de  near  horn  gone — you  knows  de  one  I  means.  En  I  ast 
him  what  he's  paintin'  her  for,  en  he  say  when  he  git  her 
painted,  de  picture's  wuth  a  hundred  dollars.  Mars  Tom, 
he  could  a  got  de  cow  fer  fifteen,  en  I  tole  him  so.  Well, 
sah,  if  you'll  b'lieve  me,  he  jes'  shuck  his  head,  dat  painter 
did,  en  went  on  a-dobbin'.  Bless  you,  Mars  Tom.  dey  don't 
know  nothinV 

Tom  he  lost  his  temper.  I  notice  a  person  'most  always 
does  that's  got  laid  out  in  an  argument.  He  told  us  to  shut 
up,  and  maybe  we'd  feel  better.  Then  he  see  a  town  clock 
away  off  down  yonder,  and  he  took  up  the  glass  and  looked 
at  it,  and  then  looked  at  his  silver  turnip,  and  then  at  the 
clock,  and  then  at  the  turnip  again,  and  says: 

"  That's  funny  !     Th  >t  clock's  near  about  an  hour  fast." 

So  he  put  up  his  turnip  Then  he  see  another  clock,  and 
took  a  look,  and  it  was  an  hour  fast  too.  That  puzzled  him. 

"That's  a  mighty  curious  thing,"  he  says.  "I  don't 
understand  it." 

Then  he  took  the  glass  and  hunted  up  another  clock,  and 
sure  enough  it  was  an  hour  fast  too.  Then  his  eyes  began 
to  spread  and  his  breath  to  come  out  kinder  gaspy  like,  and 
ht  says : 

"  Ger-reat  Scott,  it's  the  longitude!" 

I  says,  considerably  scared  : 

"Well,  what's  been  and  gone  and  happened  now?" 

"  Why,  the  thing  that's  happened  is  that  this  old  bladder 
has  slid  over  Illinois  and  Indiana  and  Ohio  like  nothing, 
and  this  is  the  east  end  of  Pennsylvania  or  New  York,  or 
somewheres  around  there." 

"Tom  Sawyer,  you  don't  mean  it !" 

"Yes,  I  do,  and  it's  dead  sure.  We've  covered  about 
fifteen  degrees  of  longitude  since  we  left  St.  Louis  yes 
terday  afternoon,  and  them  clocks  are  right.  We've  come 
siose  on  to  eight  hundred  miles." 


I  didn't  believe  it,  but  it  made  the  cold  streaks  trickle 
down  my  back  just  the  same.  In  my  experience  I  knowed 
it  wouldn't  take  much  short  of  two  weeks  to  do  it  down  the 
Mississippi  on  a  raft. 

Jim  was  working  his  mind  and  studying.  Pretty  soon  he 
says: 

"  Mars  Tom,  did  you  say  dem  clocks  uz  right  ?" 

"Yes,  they're  right." 

"  Ain't  yo'  watch  right,  too  ?" 

"  She's  right  for  St.  Louis,  but  she's  an  hour  wrong  for 
here." 

"  Mars  Tom,  is  you  tryin'  to  let  on  dat  de  time  ain't  de 
same  everywheres  ?" 

"  No,  it  ain't  the  same  everywheres,  by  a  long  shot." 

Jim  looked  distressed,  and  says : 

"  It  grieves  me  to  hear  you  talk  like  dat,  Mars  Tom  ;  I's 
right  down  ashamed  to  hear  you  talk  like  dat,  arter  de  way 
you's  been  raised.  Yassir,  it  'd  break  yo'  Aunt  Polly's  heart 
to  hear  you." 

Tom  was  astonished.  He  looked  Jim  over,  wondering, 
and  didn't  say  nothing,  and  Jim  went  on  : 

"  Mars  Tom,  who  put  de  people  out  yonder  in  St. 
Louis  ?  De  Lord  done  it.  Who  put  de  people  here  whar 
we  is  ?  De  Lord  done  it.  Ain'  dey  bofe  his  children  ? 
'Cose  dey  is.  Well,  den  !  is  he  gwine  to  scriminate  'twixt 
'em  ?" 

"  Scriminate !  I  never  heard  such  ignorance.  There 
ain't  no  discriminating  about  it.  When  he  makes  you  and 
some  more  of  his  children  black,  and  makes  the  rest  of  us 
white,  what  do  you  call  that?" 

Jim  see  the  p'int.  He  was  stuck.  He  couldn't  answer. 
Tom  says : 

"  He  does  discriminate,  you  see,  when  he  wants  to ;  but 
this  case  here  ain't  no  discrimination  of  his,  it's  man's.  The 


26 


Lord  made  the  day,  and  he  made  the  night ;  but  he  didn't 
invent  the  hours,  and  he  didn't  distribute  them  around. 
Man  did  that." 

"  Mars  Tom,  is  dat  so  ?     Man  done  it •?" 

"  Certainly." 

"Who  tolehim  he  could?" 

"  Nobody.     He  never  asked." 

Jim  studied  a  minute,  and  says : 

"Well,  dat  do  beat  me.  I  wouldn't  'a'  tuck  no  sich  resk. 
But  some  people  ain't  scared  o'  nothin'.  Dey  bangs  right 
ahead ;  dey  don't  care  what  happens.  So  den  dey's  allays 
an  hour's  diff'unce  everywhah,  Mars  Tom  ?" 

"An  hour?  No  !  It's  four  minutes  difference  for  every 
degree  of  longitude,  you  know.  Fifteen  of  'em's  an  hour, 
thirty  of  'em's  two  hours,  and  so  on.  When  it's  one  o'clock 
Tuesday  morning  in  England,  it's  eight  o'clock  the  night 
before  in  New  York." 

Jim  moved  a  little  way  along  the  locker,  and  you  could 
see  he  was  insulted.  He  kept  shaking  his  head  and  mut 
tering,  and  so  I  slid  along  to  him  and  patted  him  on  the  leg, 
and  petted  him  up,  and  got  him  over  the  worst  of  his  feel 
ings,  and  then  he  says: 

"Mars  Tom  talkin'  sich  talk  as  dat!  Choosday  in  one 
place  en  Monday  in  t'other,  bofe  in  the  same  day !  Huck, 
dis  ain't  no  place  to  joke — up  here  whah  we  is.  Two  days 
in  one  day !  How  you  gwine  to  got  two  days  inter  one 
day?  Can't  git  two  hours  inter  one  hour,  kin  you?  Can't 
git  two  niggers  inter  one  nigger  skin,  kin  you  ?  Can't  git 
two  gallons  of  whiskey  inter  a  one-gallon  jug,  kin  you  ?  No, 
sir,  'twould  strain  de  jug.  Yes,  en  even  den  you  couldn't, 
/don't  believe.  Why,  looky  here,  Huck,  s'posen  de  Choos 
day  was  New  Year's— now  den !  is  you  gwine  to  tell  me  it's 
dis  year  in  one  place  en  las'  year  in  t'other,  bofe  in  de  iden 
tical  same  minute  ?  JJ'.s  de  beatenest  rubbage  1  I  can't 


Stan'  it — I  can't  stan'  to  hear  tell  'bout  it."  Then  he  begun 
to  shiver  and  turn  gray,  and  Tom  says  : 

"Now  what's  the  matter  ?     What's  the  trouble  ?" 

Jim  could  hardly  speak,  but  he  says  : 

"Mars  Tom,  you  ain't  jokin',  en  it's  so?" 

"  No  I'm  not,  and  it  is  so." 

Jim  shivered  again,  and  says: 

"  Den  dat  Monday  could  be  de  las'  day,  en  dey  wouldn't 
be  no  las'  day  in  England,  en  de  dead  wouldn't  be  called. 
We  mustn't  go  over  dah,  Mars  Tom.  Please  git  him  to  turn 
back ;  I  wants  to  be  whah — " 

All  of  a  sudden  we  see  something,  and  all  jumped  up,  and 
forgot  everything  and  begun  to  gaze.  Tom  says: 

"Ain't  that  the — "  He  catched  his  breath,  then  says: 
"  It  is,  sure  as  you  live  !  It's  the  ocean  !" 

That  made  me  and  Jim  catch  our  breath,  too.  Then  we 
all  stood  petrified  but  happy,  for  none  of  us  had  ever  seen 
an  ocean,  or  ever  expected  to.  Tom  kept  muttering : 

"  Atlantic  Ocean — Atlantic.  Land,  don't  it  sound  great ! 
And  that's  // — and  we  are  looking  at  it — we  !  Why,  it's  just 
too  splendid  to  believe !" 

Then  we  see  a  big  bank  of  black  smoke ;  and  when  we 
got  nearer,  it  was  a  city — and  a  monster  she  was,  too,  with 
a  thick  fringe  of  ships  around  one  edge ;  and  we  wondered 
if  it  was  New  York,  and  begun  to  jaw  and  dispute  about  it, 
and,  first  we  knowed,  it  slid  from  under  us  and  went  flying 
behind,  and  here  we  was,  out  over  the  very  ocean  itself,  and 
going  like  a  cyclone.  Then  we  woke  up,  I  tell  you  ! 

We  made  a  break  aft  and  raised  a  wail,  and  begun  to  beg 
the  professor  to  turn  back  and  land  us,  but  he  jerked  out 
his  pistol  and  motioned  us  back,  and  we  went,  but  nobody 
will  ever  know  how  bad  we  felt. 

The  land  was  gone,  all  but  a  little  streak,  like  a  snake, 
away  off  on  the  edge  of  the  water,  and  down  under  us  waa 


28 


just  ocean,  ocean,  ocean — millions  of  miles  of  it,  heaving 
and  pitching  and  squirming,  and  white  sprays  blowing  from 
the  wave-tops,  and  only  a  few  ships  in  sight,  wallowing  around 
and  laying  over,  first  on  one  side  and  then  on  t'other,  and 
sticking  their  bows  under  and  then  their  sterns  ;  and  before 
long  there  warn't  no  ships  at  all,  and  we  had  the  sky  and 
the  whole  ocean  all  to  ourselves,  and  the  roomiest  place  I 
ever  see  and  the  lonesomest. 


THE  PROFESSOR  SAID  HE  WOULD  KEEP  UP  THIS   HUNDRED-MILE  GAIT  TILL 
TO-MORROW  " 


CHAPTER  IV 
STORM 

AND  it  got  lonesomer  and  lonesomer.  There  was  the  big 
sky  up  there,  empty  and  awful  deep ;  and  the  ocean  down 
there  without  a  thing  on  it  but  just  the  waves.  All  around 
us  was  a  ring,  where  the  sky  and  the  water  come  together ; 
yes,  a  monstrous  big  ring  it  was,  and  we  right  in  the  dead 
centre  of  it — plumb  in  the  centre.  We  was  racing  along 
like  a  prairie  fire,  but  it  never  made  any  difference,  we 
couldn't  seem  to  git  past  that  centre  no  way.  I  couldn't 
see  that  we  ever  gained  an  inch  on  that  ring.  It  made  a 
body  feel  creepy,  it  was  so  curious  and  unaccountable. 

Well,  everything  was  so  awful  still  that  we  got  to  talking 
in  a  very  low  voice,  and  kept  on  getting  creepier  and  lone 
somer  and  less  and  less  talky,  till  at  last  the  talk  ran  dry 
altogether,  and  we  just  set  there  and  "  thunk,"  as  Jim  calls 
it,  and  never  said  a  word  the  longest  time. 

The  professor  never  stirred  till  the  sun  was  overhead,  then 
he  stood  up  and  put  a  kind  of  triangle  to  his  eye,  and  Tom 
said  it  was  a  sextant  and  he  was  taking  the  sun  to  see 
whereabouts  the  balloon  was.  Then  he  ciphered  a  little 
and  looked  in  a  book,  and  then  he  begun  to  carry  on  again. 
He  said  lots  of  wild  things,  and  amongst  others  he  said  he 
would  keep  up  this  hundred-mile  gait  till  the  middle  of  to 
morrow  afternoon,  and  then  he'd  land  in  London. 

We  said  we  would  be  humbly  thankful. 

He  was  turning  away,  but  he  whirled  around  when  we 


3° 

said  that,  and  give  us  a  long  look  of  his  blackest  kind — 
one  of  the  maliciousest  and  suspiciousest  looks  I  ever  see. 
Then  he  says : 

"  You  want  to  leave  me.     Don't  try  to  deny  it." 

We  didn't  know  what  to  say,  so  we  held  in  and  didn't  say 
nothing  at  all. 

He  went  aft  and  set  down,  but  he  couldn't  seem  to  git 
that  thing  out  of  his  mind.  Every  now  and  then  he  would 
rip  out  something  about  it,  and  try  to  make  us  answer  him, 
but  we  dasn't. 

It  got  lonesomer  and  lonesomer  right  along,  and  it  did 
seem  to  me  I  couldn't  stand  it.  It  was  still  worse  when 
night  begun  to  come  on.  By-and-by  Tom  pinched  me  and 
whispers : 

"  Look !" 

I  took  a  glance  aft,  and  see  the  professor  taking  a  whet 
out  of  a  bottle.  I  didn't  like  the  looks  of  that.  By-and-by 
he  took  another  drink,  and  pretty  soon  he  begun  to  sing. 
It  was  dark  now,  and  getting  black  and  stormy.  He  went 
on  singing,  wilder  and  wilder,  and  the  thunder  begun  to 
mutter,  and  the  wind  to  wheeze  and  moan  amongst  the 
ropes,  and  altogether  it  was  awful.  It  got  so  black  we 
couldn't  see  him  any  more,  and  wished  we  couldn't  hear 
him,  but  we  could.  Then  he  got  still ;  but  he  warn't  still 
ten  minutes  till  we  got  suspicious,  and  wished  he  would 
start  up  his  noise  again,  so  we  could  tell  where  he  was. 
By-and-by  there  was  a  flash  of  lightning,  and  we  see  him 
start  to  get  up,  but  he  staggered  and  fell  down.  We  heard 
him  scream  out  in  the  dark : 

"They  don't  want  to  go  to  England.  All  right,  I'll 
change  the  course.  They  want  to  leave  me.  I  know  they 
do.  Well,  they  shall — and  now  f" 

I  'most  died  when  he  said  that.  Then  he  was  still  again, 
— still  so  long  I  couldn't  bear  it,  and  it  did  seem  to  me  the 


'YOU    WANT   TO    LEAVE    ME.       DON  T    TRY    TO    DENY    IT 


31 

lightning  wouldn't  ever  come  again.  But  at  last  there  was 
a  blessed  flash,  and  there  he  was,  on  his  hands  and  knees, 
crawling,  and  not  four  feet  from  us.  My,  but  his  eyes  was 
terrible  !  He  made  a  lunge  for  Tom,  and  says,  "  Overboard 
you  go  !"  but  it  was  already  pitch-dark  again,  and  I  couldn't 
see  whether  he  got  him  or  not,  and  Tom  didn't  make  a 
sound. 

There  was  another  long,  horrible  wait ;  then  there  was  a 
flash,  and  I  see  Tom's  head  sink  down  outside  the  boat  and 
disappear.  He  was  on  the  rope-ladder  that  dangled  down 
in  the  air  from  the  gunnel.  The  professor  let  off  a  shout 
and  jumped  for  him,  and  straight  off  it  was  pitch-dark  again, 
and  Jim  groaned  out,  "  Po'  Mars  Tom,  he's  a  goner !"  and 
made  a  jump  for  the  professor,  but  the  professor  warn't 
there. 

Then  we  heard  a  couple  of  terrible  screams,  and  then 
another  not  so  loud,  and  then  another  that  was  'way  below, 
and  you  could  only  just  hear  it;  and  I  heard  Jim  say,  "  Po' 
Mars  Tom  !" 

Then  it  was  awful  still,  and  I  reckon  a  person  could  'a' 
counted  four  thousand  before  the  next  flash  come.  When 
it  come  I  see  Jim  on  his  knees,  with  his  arms  on  the  locker 
and  his  face  buried  'n  them,  and  he  was  crying.  Before  I 
could  look  over  the  edge  it  was  all  dark  again,  and  I  was 
glad,  because  I  didn't  want  to  see.  But  when  the  next 
flash  come,  I  was  watching,  and  down  there  I  see  somebody 
a-swinging  in  the  wind  on  the  ladder,  and  it  was  Tom ! 

"  Come  up  !"  I  shouts  ;  "  come  up,  Tom  !" 

His  voice  was  so  weak,  and  the  wind  roared  so,  I  couldn't 
make  out  what  he  said,  but  I  thought  he  asked  was  the  pro 
fessor  up  there.  I  shouts  : 

"  No,  he's  down  in  the  ocean  !  Come  up  !  Can  we  help 
you  ?" 

Of  course,  all  this  in  the  dark. 


32 

"  Huck,  who  is  you  hollerin'  at  ?" 

"  I'm  hollerin'  at  Tom." 

"  Oh,  Huck,  how  kin  you  act  so,  when  you  know  po'  Mars 
Tom's — "  Then  he  let  off  an  awful  scream,  and  flung  his 
head  and  his  arms  back  and  let  off  another  one,  because 
there  was  a  white  glare  just  then,  and  he  had  raised  up  his 
face  just  in  time  to  see  Tom's,  as  white  as  snow,  rise  above 
the  gunnel  and  look  him  right  in  the  eye.  He  thought 
it  was  Tom's  ghost,  you  see. 

Tom  clumb  aboard,  and  when  Jim  found  it  was  him,  and 
not  his  ghost,  he  hugged  him,  and  called  him  all  sorts  of 
loving  names,  and  carried  on  like  he  was  gone  crazy,  he  was 
so  glad.  Says  I : 

"  What  did  you  wait  for,  Tom  ?  Why  didn't  you  come  up 
at  first  ?" 

"  I  dasn't,  Huck.  I  knowed  somebody  plunged  down 
past  me,  but  I  didn't  know  who  it  was  in  the  dark.  It 
could  'a'  been  you,  it  could  'a'  been  Jim." 

That  was  the  way  with  Tom  Sawyer — always  sound.  He 
warn't  coming  up  till  he  knowed  where  the  professor  was. 

The  storm  let  go  about  this  time  with  all  its  might ;  and 
it  was  dreadful  the  way  the  thunder  boomed  and  tore,  and 
the  lightning  glared  out,  and  the  wim1  sung  and  screamed 
in  the  rigging,  and  the  rain  come  down.  One  second  you 
couldn't  see  your  hand  before  you,  and  the  next  you  could 
count  the  threads  in  your  coat-sleeve,  and  see  a  whole  wide 
desert  of  waves  pitching  and  tossing  through  a  kind  of  veil 
of  rain.  A  storm  like  that  is  the  loveliest  thing  there  is, 
but  it  ain't  at  its  best  when  you  are  up  in  the  sky  and  lost, 
and  it's  wet  and  lonesome,  and  there's  just  been  a  death  in 
the  family. 

We  set  there  huddled  up  in  the  bow,  and  talked  low 
about  the  poor  professor  ;  and  everybody  was  sorry  for  him, 
and  sorry  the  world  had  made  fun  of  him  and  treated  him 


E   THUNDER    BOOMED,    AND    THE    LIGHTNING    GLARED,    AND    THE    WIND 
SCREAMED    IN    THE    RIGGING" 


33 

so  harsh,  when  he  was  doing  the  best  he  could,  and  hadn't 
a  friend  nor  nobody  to  encourage  him  and  keep  him  from 
brooding  his  mind  away  and  going  deranged.  There  was 
plenty  of  clothes  and  blankets  and  everything  at  the  other 
end,  but  we  thought  we'd  ruther  take  the  rain  than  go 
meddling  back  there. 

3TS 


CHAPTER  V 
LAND 

WE  tried  to  make  some  plans,  but  we  couldn't  come  to 
no  agreement.  Me  and  Jim  was  for  turning  around  and 
going  back  home,  but  Tom  allowed  that  by  the  time  day 
light  come,  so  we  could  see  our  way,  we  would  be  so  far 
toward  England  that  we  might  as  well  go  there,  and 
come  back  in  a  ship,  and  have  the  glory  of  saying  we 
done  it. 

About  midnight  the  storm  quit  and  the  moon  come  out 
and  lit  up  the  ocean,  and  we  begun  to  feel  comfortable 
and  drowsy ;  so  we  stretched  out  on  the  lockers  and  went 
to  sleep,  and  never  woke  up  again  till  sun-up.  The  sea 
was  sparkling  like  di'monds,  and  it  was  nice  weather,  and 
pretty  soon  our  things  was  all  dry  again.  * 

We  went  aft  to  find  some  breakfast,  and  the  first  thing 
we  noticed  was  that  there  was  a  dim  light  burning  in  a 
compass  back  there  under  a  hood.  Then  Tom  was  dis 
turbed.  He  says : 

"You  know  what  that  means,  easy  enough.  It  means 
that  somebody  has  got  to  stay  on  watch  and  steer  this 
thing  the  same  as  he  would  a  ship,  or  she'll  wander  around 
and  go  wherever  the  wind  wants  her  to." 

"  Well,"  I  says,  "  what's  she  been  doing  since — er — since 
we  had  the  accident?" 

"  Wandering,"  he  says,  kinder  troubled  —  "  wandering, 
without  any  doubt.  She's  in  a  wind,  now,  that's  blowing 


33 

her  south  of  east.  We  don't  know  how  long  that's  been 
going  on,  either." 

So  then  he  pointed  her  east,  and  said  he  would  hold  her 
there  till  we  rousted  out  the  breakfast.  The  professor  had 
laid  in  everything  a  body  could  want ;  he  couldn't  'a'  been 
better  fixed.  There  wasn't  no  milk  for  the  coffee,  but 
there  was  water,  and  everything  else  you  could  want,  and 
a  charcoal  stove  and  the  fixings  for  it,  and  pipes  and  cigars 
and  matches;  and  wine  and  liquor,  which  warn't  in  our 
line ;  and  books,  and  maps,  and  charts,  and  an  accordion ; 
and  furs,  and  blankets,  and  no  end  of  rubbish,  like  brass 
beads  and  brass  jewelry,  which  Tom  said  was  a  sure  sign 
that  he  had  an  idea  of  visiting  among  savages.  There  was 
money,  too.  Yes,  the  professor  was  well  enough  fixed. 

After  breakfast  Tom  learned  me  and  Jim  how  to  steer, 
and  divided  us  all  up  into  four-hour  watches,  turn  and 
turn  about ;  and  when  his  watch  was  out  I  took  his  place, 
and  he  got  out  the  professor's  papers  and  pens  and  wrote 
a  letter  home  to  his  aunt  Polly,  telling  her  everything  that 
had  happened  to  us,  and  dated  it  "/«  the  Welkin,  approach 
ing  England"  and  folded  it  together  and  stuck  it  fast  with 
a  red  wafer,  and  directed  it,  and  wrote  above  the  direction, 
in  big  writing,  "  From  Tom  Sawyer,  the  Erronort"  and  said 
it  would  stump  old  Nat  Parsons,  the  postmaster,  when  it 
come  along  in  the  mail.  I  says  : 

"  Tom  Sawyer,  this  ain't  no  welkin  ;  it's  a  balloon." 

"  Well,  now,  who  said  it  was  a  welkin,  smarty  ?" 

ft  You've  wrote  it  on  the  letter,  anyway." 

"  What  of  it  ?  That  don't  mean  that  the  balloon's  the 
welkin." 

"  Oh,  I  thought  it  did.     Well,  then,  what  is  a  welkin  ?" 

I  see  in  a  minute  he  was  stuck.  He  raked  and  scraped 
around  in  his  mind,  but  he  couldn't  find  nothing,  so  he  had 
to  say : 


36 

"7  don't  know,  and  nobody  don't  know.  It's  just  a 
word,  and  it's  a  mighty  good  word,  too.  There  ain't  many 
that  lays  over  it.  I  don't  believe  there's  any  that  does." 

"Shucks!"  I  says.  "But  what  does  it  mean?— that's 
the  p'int."  . 

"/don't  know  what  it  means,  I  tell  you.  It's  a  word 
that  people  uses  for  —  for  —  well,  it's  ornamental.  They 
don't  put  ruffles  on  a  shirt  to  keep  a  person  warm,  do 
they?" 

"  Course  they  don't." 

"  But  they  put  them  on,  don't  they  ?" 

"Yes." 

"  All  right,  then ;  that  letter  I  wrote  is  a  shirt,  and  the 
welkin's  the  ruffle  on  it." 

I  judged  that  that  would  gravel  Jim,  and  it  did. 

"  Now,  Mars  Tom,  it  ain't  no  use  to  talk  like  dat ;  en, 
moreover,  it's  sinful.  You  knows  a  letter  ain't  no  shirt,  en 
dey  ain't  no  ruffles  on  it,  nuther.  Dey  ain't  no  place  to  put 
'em  on  ;  you  can't  put  'em  on,  and  dey  wouldn't  stay  ef 
you  did." 

"Oh,  do  shut  up,  and  wait  till  something's  started  that 
you  know  something  about." 

"  Why,  Mars  Tom,  sholy  you  can't  mean  to  say  I  don't 
know  about  shirts,  when,  goodness  knows,  I's  toted  home 
de  washin'  ever  sence — " 

"  I  tell  you,  this  hasn't  got  anything  to  do  with  shirts. 
I  only—" 

"  Why,  Mars  Tom,  you  said  yo'self  dat  a  letter — " 

"Do  you  want  to  drive  me  crazy?  Keep  still.  I  only 
used  it  as  a  metaphor." 

That  word  kinder  bricked  us  up  for  a  minute.  Then 
Jim  says — rather  timid,  because  he  see  Tom  was  getting 
pretty  tetchy  : 

"  Mars  Tom,  what  is  a  metaphor  ?" 


37 

"  A  metaphor's  a— well,  it's  a — a — a  metaphor's  an  illus 
tration."  He  see  that  didn't  git  home,  so  he  tried  again. 
"When  I  say  birds  of  a  feather  flocks  together,  it's  a  meta 
phorical  way  of  saying— 

"But  dey  don't,  Mars  Tom.  No,  sir,  'deed  dey  don't. 
Dey  ain't  no  feathers  dat's  more  alike  den  a  bluebird  en  a 
jaybird,  but  ef  you  waits  till  you  catches  dem  birds  together, 
you'll—" 

"  Oh,  give  us  a  rest !  You  can't  get  the  simplest  little 
thing  through  your  thick  skull.  Now  don't  bother  me  any 
more." 

Jim  was  satisfied  to  stop.  He  was  dreadful  pleased  with 
himself  for  catching  Tom  out.  The  minute  Tom  begun  to 
talk  about  birds  I  judged  he  was  a  goner,  because  Jim 
knowed  more  about  birds  than  both  of  us  put  together. 
You  see,  he  had  killed  hundreds  and  hundreds  of  them, 
and  that's  the  way  to  find  out  about  birds.  That's  the 
way  people  does  that  writes  books  about  birds,  and  loves 
them  so  that  they'll  go  hungry  and  tired  and  take  any 
amount  of  trouble  to  find  a  new  bird  and  kill  it.  Their 
name  is  ornithologers,  and  I  could  have  been  an  ornitholo- 
ger  myself,  because  I  always  loved  birds  and  creatures  j 
and  I  started  out  to  learn  how  to  be  one,  and  I  see  a  bird 
setting  on  a  limb  of  a  high  tree,  singing  with  its  head  tilted 
back  and  its  mouth  open,  and  before  I  thought  I  fired,  and 
his  song  stopped  and  he  fell  straight  down  from  the  limb, 
all  limp  like  a  rag,  and  I  run  and  picked  him  up  and  he 
was  dead,  and  his  body  was  warm  in  my  hand,  and  his 
head  rolled  about  this  way  and  that,  like  his  neck  was 
broke,  and  there  was  a  little  white  skin  over  his  eyes,  and 
one  little  drop  of  blood  on  the  side  of  his  head ;  and,  laws! 
I  couldn't  see  nothing  more  for  the  tears ;  and  I  hain't 
never  murdered  no  creature  since  that  warn't  doing  me  no 
harm,  and  I  ain't  going  to. 


38 

But  I  was  aggravated  about  that  welkin.  I  wanted  to 
know.  I  got  the  subject  up  again,  and  then  Tom  ex 
plained,  the  best  he  could.  He  said  when  a  person  made 
a  big  speech  the  newspapers  said  the  shouts  of  the  people 
made  the  welkin  ring.  He  said  they  always  said  that,  but 
none  of  them  ever  told  what  it  was,  so  he  allowed  it  just 
meant  outdoors  and  up  high.  Well,  that  seemed  sensible 
enough,  so  I  was  satisfied,  and  said  so.  That  pleased  Tom 
and  put  him  in  a  good  humor  again,  and  he  says  : 

"  Well,  it's  all  right,  then ;  and  we'll  let  by-gones  be  by 
gones.  I  don't  know  for  certain  what  a  welkin  is,  but 
when  we  land  in  London  we'll  make  it  ring,  anyway,  and 
don't  you  forget  it." 

He  said  an  erronort  was  a  person  who  sailed  around  in 
balloons ;  and  said  it  was  a  mighty  sight  finer  to  be  Tom 
Sawyer  the  Erronort  than  to  be  Tom  Sawyer  the  Traveller, 
and  we  would  be  heard  of  all  round  the  world,  if  we  pulled 
through  all  right,  and  so  he  wouldn't  give  shucks  to  be 
a  traveller  now. 

Toward  the  middle  of  the  afternoon  we  got  everything 
ready  to  land,  and  we  felt  pretty  good,  too,  and  proud  ;  and 
we  kept  watching  with  the  glasses,  like  Columbus  discover 
ing  America.  But  we  couldn't  see  nothing  but  ocean.  The 
afternoon  wasted  out  and  the  sun  shut  down,  and  still  there 
warn't  no  land  anywheres.  We  wondered  what  was  the 
matter,  but  reckoned  it  would  come  out  all  right,  so  we 
went  on  steering  east,  but  went  up  on  a  higher  level  so  we 
wouldn't  hit  any  steeples  or  mountains  in  the  dark. 

It  was  my  watch  till  midnight,  and  then  it  was  Jim's ; 
but  Tom  stayed  up,  because  he  said  ship -captains  done 
that  when  they  was  making  the  land,  and  didn't  stand  no 
regular  watch. 

Well,  when  daylight  come,  Jim  give  a  shout,  and  we 
jumped  up  and  looked  over,  and  there  was  the  land  sure 


39 

enough,  —  land  all  around,  as  far  as  you  could  see,  and 
perfectly  level  and  yaller.  We  didn't  know  how  long  we'd 
been  over  it.  There  warn't  no  trees,  nor  hills,  nor  rocks, 
nor  towns,  and  Tom  and  Jim  had  took  it  for  the  sea.  They 
took  it  for  the  sea  in  a  dead  ca'm ;  but  we  was  so  high 
up,  anyway,  that  if  it  had  been  the  sea  and  rough,  it  would 
'a'  looked  smooth,  all  the  same,  in  the  night,  that  way. 

We  was  all  in  a  powerful  excitement  now,  and  grabbed 
the  glasses  and  hunted  everywheres  for  London,  but  couldn't 
find  hair  nor  hide  of  it,  nor  any  other  settlement, — nor  any 
sign  of  a  lake  or  a  river,  either.  Tom  was  clean  beat. 
He  said  it  warn't  his  notion  of  England ;  he  thought  Eng 
land  looked  like  America,  and  always  had  that  idea.  So 
he  said  we  better  have  breakfast,  and  then  drop  down  and 
inquire  the  quickest  way  to  London.  We  cut  the  breakfast 
pretty  short,  we  was  so  impatient.  As  we  slanted  along 
down,  the  weather  began  to  moderate,  and  pretty  soon  we 
shed  our  furs.  But  it  kept  on  moderating,  and  in  a  precious 
little  while  it  was  'most  too  moderate.  We  was  close  down, 
now,  and  just  blistering  ! 

We  settled  down  to  within  thirty  foot  of  the  land, — « 
that  is,  it  was  land  if  sand  is  land ;  for  this  wasn't  any> 
thing  but  pure  sand.  Tom  and  me  clumb  down  the  laddei 
and  took  a  run  to  stretch  our  legs,  and  it  felt  amazing 
good, — that  is,  the  stretching  did,  but  the  sand  scorched 
our  feet  like  hot  embers.  Next,  we  see  somebody  coming, 
and  started  to  meet  him;  but  we  heard  Jim  shout,  and 
looked  around  and  he  was  fairly  dancing,  and  making 
signs,  and  yelling.  We  couldn't  make  out  what  he  said, 
but  we  was  scared  anyway,  and  begun  to  heel  it  back  to 
the  balloon.  When  we  got  close  enough,  we  understood 
the  words,  and  they  made  me  sick : 

"  Run  !  Run  fo'  yo'  life  !  Hit's  a  lion ;  I  kin  see  him 
thoo  de  glass !  Run,  boys ;  do  please  heel  it  de  bes'  you 


40 

kin.  He's  bu'sted  outen  de  menagerie,  en  dey  ain't  nobody 
to  stop  him !" 

It  made  Tom  fly,  but  it  took  the  stiffening  all  out  of  my 
legs.  I  could  only  just  gasp  along  the  way  you  do  in  a 
dream  when  there's  a  ghost  gaining  on  you. 

Tom  got  to  the  ladder  and  shinned  up  it  a  piece  and 
waited  for  me ;  and  as  soon  as  I  got  a  foothold  on  it  hq 
shouted  to  Jim  to  soar  away.  But  Jim  had  clean  lost  his 
head,  and  said  he  had  forgot  how.  So  Tom  shinned  along 
up  and  told  me  to  follow ;  but  the  lion  was  arriving,  fetch 
ing  a  most  ghastly  roar  with  every  lope,  and  my  legs  shook 
so  I  dasn't  try  to  take  one  of  them  out  of  the  rounds  for 
fear  the  other  one  would  give  way  under  me. 

But  Tom  was  aboard  by  this  time,  and  he  started  the 
balloon  up  a  little,  and  stopped  it  again  as  soon  as  the 
end  of  the  ladder  was  ten  or  twelve  feet  above  ground. 
And  there  was  the  lion,  a-ripping  around  under  me,  and 
roaring  and  springing  up  in  the  air  at  the  ladder,  and  only 
missing  it  about  a  quarter  of  an  inch,  it  seemed  to  me. 
It  was  delicious  to  be  out  of  his  reach,  perfectly  delicious, 
and  made  me  feel  good  and  thankful  all  up  one  side;  but 
I  was  hanging  there  helpless  and  couldn't  climb,  and  that 
made  me  feel  perfectly  wretched  and  miserable  all  down 
the  other.  It  is  most  seldom  that  a  person  feels  so  mixed, 
like  that ;  and  it  is  not  to  be  recommended,  either. 

Tom  asked  me  what  he'd  better  do,  but  I  didn't  know. 
He  asked  me  if  I  could  hold  on  whilst  he  sailed  away  to 
a  safe  place  and  left  the  lion  behind.  I  said  I  could  if 
he  didn't  go  no  higher  than  he  was  now;  but  if  he  went 
higher  I  would  lose  my  head  and  fall,  sure.  So  he  said, 
"  Take  a  good  grip,"  and  he  started. 

"  Don't  go  so  fast,"  I  shouted.  "  It  makes  my  head 
swim." 

He  had  started  like  a  lightning  express.     He  slowed 


AND    THERE   WAS   THE   LION,    A- RIPPING   AROUND    UNDER    ME" 


down,  and  we  glided  over  the  sand  slower,  but  still  in  a 
kind  of  sickening  way ;  for  it  is  uncomfortable  to  see  things 
sliding  and  gliding  under  you  like  that,  and  not  a  sound. 

But  pretty  soon  there  was  plenty  of  sound,  for  the  lion 
was  catching  up.  His  noise  fetched  others.  You  could 
see  them  coming  on  the  lope  from  every  direction,  and 
pretty  soon  there  was  a  couple  of  dozen  of  them  under  me, 
jumping  up  at  the  ladder  and  snarling  and  snapping  at 
each  other;  and  so  we  went  skimming  along  over  the  sand, 
and  these  fellers  doing  what  they  could  to  help  us  to  not 
forgit  the  occasion ;  and  then  some  other  beasts  come, 
without  an  invite,  and  they  started  a  regular  riot  down  there. 

We  see  this  plan  was  a  mistake.  We  couldn't  ever  git 
away  from  them  at  this  gait,  and  I  couldn't  hold  on  forever. 
So  Tom  took  a  think,  and  struck  another  idea.  That  was, 
to  kill  a  lion  with  the  pepper-box  revolver,  and  then  sail 
away  while  the  others  stopped  to  fight  over  the  carcass. 
So  he  stopped  the  balloon  still,  and  done  it,  and  then  we 
sailed  off  while  the  fuss  was  going  on,  and  come  down  a 
quarter  of  a  mile  off,  and  they  helped  me  aboard ;  but  by 
the  time  we  was  out  of  reach  again,  that  gang  was  on  hand 
once  more.  And  when  they  see  we  was  really  gone  and 
they  couldn't  get  us,  they  sat  down  on  their  hams  and 
looked  up  at  us  so  kind  of  disappointed  that  it  was  as 
much  as  a  person  could  do  not  to  see  their  side  of  the 
matter. 


CHAPTER  VI 
IT'S    A     CARAVAN 

I  WAS  so  weak  that  the  only  thing  I  wanted  was  a  chance 
to  lay  down,  so  I  made  straight  for  my  locker-bunk,  and 
ttretched  myself  out  there.  But  a  body  couldn't  get  back 
\is  strength  in  no  such  oven  as  that,  so  Tom  give  the  com 
mand  to  soar,  and  Jim  started  her  aloft. 

We  had  to  go  up  a  mile  before  we  struck  comfortable 
weather  where  it  was  breezy  and  pleasant  and  just  right, 
and  pretty  soon  I  was  all  straight  again.  Tom  had  been 
setting  quiet  and  thinking ;  but  now  he  jumps  up  and 
says  : 

"  I  bet  you  a  thousand  to  one  /  know  where  we  are. 
We're  in  the  Great  Sahara,  as  sure  as  guns !" 

He  was  so  excited  he  couldn't  hold  still ;  but  I  wasn't. 
I  says : 

"  Well,  then,  where's  the  Great  Sahara  ?  In  England  or 
in  Scotland  ?" 

"'Tain't  in  either;  it's  in  Africa." 

Jim's  eyes  bugged  out,  and  he  begun  to  stare  down  with 
no  end  of  interest,  because  that  was  where  his  originals 
come  from ;  but  I  didn't  more  than  half  believe  it.  I 
couldn't,  you  know ;  it  seemed  too  awful  far  away  for  us  to 
have  travelled. 

But  Tom  was  full  of  his  discovery,  as  he  called  it,  and 
said  the  lions  and  the  sand  meant  the  Great  Desert,  sure. 
He  said  he  could  'a'  found  out,  before  we  sighted  land,  that 


WE    SWOOPED    DOWN,    NOW,    ALL    OF   A    SUDDEN 


43 

we  was  crowding  the  land  somewheres,  if  he  had  thought 
of  one  thing ;  and  when  we  asked  him  what,  he  said : 

"These  clocks.  They're  chronometers.  You  always 
read  about  them  in  sea  voyages.  One  of  them  is  keeping 
Grinnage  time,  and  the  other  is  keeping  St.  Louis  time, 
like  my  watch.  When  we  left  St.  Louis  it  was  four  in  the 
afternoon  by  my  watch  and  this  clock,  and  it  was  ten  at 
night  by  this  Grinnage  clock.  Well,  at  this  time  of  the 
year  the  sun  sets  at  about  seven  o'clock.  Now  I  noticed 
the  time  yesterday  evening  when  the  sun  went  down,  and 
it  was  half-past  five  o'clock  by  the  Grinnage  clock,  and  half- 
past  eleven  A.M.  by  my  watch  and  the  other  clock.  You 
see,  the  sun  rose  and  set  by  my  watch  in  St.  Louis,  and 
the  Grinnage  clock  was  six  hours  fast;  but  we've  come 
so  far  east  that  it  comes  within  less  than  half  an  hour  of 
setting  by  the  Grinnage  clock,  now,  and  I'm  away  out — 
more  than  four  hours  and  a  half  out.  You  see,  that  meant 
that  we  was  closing  up  on  the  longitude  of  Ireland,  and 
would  strike  it  before  long  if  we  was  p'inted  right — which  we 
wasn't.  No,  sir,  we've  been  a-wandering — wandering  'way 
down  south  of  east,  and  it's  my  opinion  we  are  in  Africa. 
Look  at  this  map.  You  see  how  the  shoulder  of  Africa 
sticks  out  to  the  west.  Think  how  fast  we've  travelled;  if 
we  had  gone  straight  east  we  would  be  long  past  England  by 
this  time.  You  watch  for  noon,  all  of  you,  and  we'll  stand 
up,  and  when  we  can't  cast  a  shadow  we'll  find  that  this 
Grinnage  clock  is  coming  mighty  close  to  marking  twelve. 
Yes,  sir,  /think  we're  in  Africa;  and  it's  just  bully." 

Jim  was  gazing  down  with  the  glass.  He  shook  his 
head  and  says  : 

"  Mars  Tom,  I  reckon  dey's  a  mistake  som'er's.     I  hain't  / 
seen  no  niggers  yit." 

"  That's  nothing ;  they  don't  live  in  the  desert.  What  is 
that,  'way  off  yonder  ?  Gimme  a  glass." 


44 

He  took  a  long  look,  and  said  it  was  like  a  black  string 
stretched  across  the  sand,  but  he  couldn't  guess  what  it  was. 

"  Well,"  I  says,  "  I  reckon  maybe  you've  got  a  chance, 
now,  to  find  out  whereabouts  this  balloon  is,  because  as 
like  as  not  that  is  one  of  these  lines  here,  that's  on  the  map, 
that  you  call  meridians  of  longitude,  and  we  can  drop  down 
and  look  at  its  number,  and — 

"  Oh,  shucks,  Huck  Finn,  I  never  see  such  a  lunkhead  as 
you.  Did  you  s'pose  there's  meridians  of  longitude  on  the 
earth  ?" 

"  Tom  Sawyer,  they're  set  down  on  the  map,  ami  you 
know  it  perfectly  well,  and  here  they  are,  and  you  can  see 
for  yourself." 

"  Of  course  they're  on  the  map,  but  that's  nothing ;  there 
ain't  any  on  the  ground" 

"  Tom,  do  you  know  that  to  be  so  ?" 

"  Certainly  I  do." 

"Well,  then,  that  map's  a  liar  again.  I  never  see  such  a 
liar  as  that  map." 

He  fired  up  at  that,  and  I  was  ready  for  him,  and  Jim  was 
warming  his  opinion,  too,  and  next  minute  we'd  'a'  broke 
loose  on  another  argument,  if  Tom  hadn't  dropped  the  glass 
and  begun  to  clap  his  hands  like  a  maniac  and  sing  out — 

"Camels!— Camels!" 

So  I  grabbed  a  glass,  and  Jim,  too,  and  took  a  look,  but 
I  was  disappointed,  and  says — 

"Camels  your  granny;  ther're  spiders." 

"  Spiders  in  a  desert,  you  shad  ?  Spiders  walking  in  a 
procession  ?  You  don't  ever  reflect,  Huck  Finn,  and  I 
reckon  you  really  haven't  got  anything  to  reflect  with.  Don't 
you  know  we're  as  much  as  a  mile  up  in  the  air,  and  that  that 
string  of  crawlers  is  two  or  three  miles  away?  Spiders, 
good  land  !  Spiders  as  big  as  a  cow?  Perhaps  you'd  like 
to  go  down  and  milk  one  of  'em.  But  they're  camels,  just 


THE   LAST   MAN    TO  GO    SNATCHED    UP   A  CHILD,    AND    CARRIED    IT    OFF    IN 
FRONT   OF   HIM   ON   HIS    HORSE" 


45 

the  same.  It's  a  caravan,  that's  what  it  is,  and  it's  a  mile 
long." 

"  Well,  then,  'e'  's  go  down  and  look  at  it.  I  don't  be 
lieve  in  it,  and  ain't  going  to  till  I  see  it  and  know  it." 

"  All  right,"  he  says,  and  give  the  command :  "  Lower 
away." 

As  we  come  slanting  down  into  the  hot  weather,  we 
could  see  that  it  was  camels,  sure  enough,  plodding  along, 
an  everlasting  string  of  them,  with  bales  strapped  to  them, 
and  several  hundred  men  in  long  white  robes,  and  a  thing 
like  a  shawl  bound  over  their  heads  and  hanging  down  with 
tassels  and  fringes ;  and  some  of  the  men  had  long  guns 
and  some  hadn't,  and  some  was  riding  and  some  was  walk 
ing.  And  the  weather — well,  it  was  just  roasting.  And 
how  slow  they  did  creep  along !  We  swooped  down,  now, 
all  of  a  sudden,  and  stopped  about  a  hundred  yards  over 
their  heads. 

The  men  all  set  up  a  yell,  and  some  of  them  fell  flat  on 
their  stomachs,  some  begun  to  fire  their  guns  at  us,  and  the 
rest  broke  and  scampered  every  which  way,  and  so  did  the 
camels. 

We  see  that  v/e  was  making  trouble,  so  we  went  up  again 
about  a  mile,  to  the  cool  weather,  and  watched  them  from 
there.  It  took  them  an  hour  to  get  together  and  form  the 
procession  again  ;  then  they  started  along,  but  we  could  see 
by  the  glasses  that  they  wasn't  paying  much  attention  to 
anything  but  us.  We  poked  along,  looking  down  at  them 
with  the  glasses,  and  by-and-by  we  see  a  big  sand  mound, 
and  something  like  people  the  other  side  of  it,  and  there 
was  something  like  a  man  laying  on  top  of  the  mound  that 
raised  his  head  up  every  now  and  then,  and  seemed  to  be 
watching  the  caravan  or  us,  we  didn't  know  which.  As 
the  caravan  got  nearer,  he  sneaked  down  on  the  other  side 
and  rushed  to  the  other  men  and  horses — for  that  is  what 


they  was — and  we  see  them  mount  in  a  hurry ;  and  next, 
here  they  come,  like  a  house  afire,  some  with  lances  and 
some  with  long  guns,  and  all  of  them  yelling  the  best  they 
could. 

They  come  a-tearing  down  onto  the  caravan,  and  the 
next  minute  both  sides  crashed  together  and  was  all  mixed 
up,  and  there  was  such  another  popping  of  guns  as  you 
never  heard,  and  the  air  got  so  full  of  smoke  you  could 
only  catch  glimpses  of  them  struggling  together.  There 
must  'a'  been  six  hundred  men  in  that  battle,  and  it  was 
terrible  to  see.  Then  they  broke  up  into  gangs  and  groups, 
fighting  tooth  and  nail,  and  scurrying  and  scampering 
around,  and  laying  into  each  other  like  everything ;  and 
whenever  the  smoke  cleared  a  little  you  could  see  dead 
and  wounded  people  and  camels  scattered  far  and  wide 
and  all  about,  and  camels  racing  off  in  every  direction. 

At  last  the  robbers  see  they  couldn't  win,  so  their  chief 
sounded  a  signal,  and  all  that  was  left  of  them  broke  away 
and  went  scampering  across  the  plain.  The  last  man  to  go 
snatched  up  a  child  and  carried  it  off  in  front  of  him  on  his 
horse,  and  a  woman  run  screaming  and  begging  after  him, 
and  followed  him  away  off  across  the  plain  till  she  was 
separated  a  long  ways  from  her  people ;  but  it  warn't  no 
use,  and  she  had  to  give  it  up,  and  we  see  her  sink  down 
on  the  sand  and  cover  her  face  with  her  hands.  Then  Tom 
took  the  helium,  and  started  for  that  yahoo,  and  we  come 
a-whizzing  down  and  made  a  swoop,  and  knocked  him  out 
of  the  saddle,  child  and  all ;  and  he  was  jarred  considerable, 
but  the  child  wasn't  hurt,  but  laid  there  working  its  hands 
and  legs  in  the  air  like  a  tumble-bug  that's  on  its  back  and 
can't  turn  over.  The  man  went  staggering  off  to  overtake 
his  horse,  and  didn't  know  what  had  hit  him,  for  we  was 
three  or  four  hundred  yards  up  in  the  air  by  this  time. 

We  judged  the  woman  would  go  and  get  the  child,  now; 


c 


WE   COME    A- WHIZZING    DOWN,   MADE    A    SWOOP,   AND    KNOCKED    HIM 
OUT    OF   THE    SADDLE,   CHILD   AND    ALL*' 


47 


but  she  didn't.  We  could  see  her,  through  the  glass,  still 
setting  there,  with  her  head  bowed  down  on  her  knees ;  so 
of  course  she  hadn't  seen  the  performance,  and  thought  her 
child  was  clean  gone  with  the  man.  She  was  nearly  a  half 
a  mile  from  her  people,  so  we  thought  we  might  go  down  to 
the  child,  which  was  about  a  quarter  of  a  mile  beyond  her, 
and  snake  it  to  her  before  the  caravan  people  could  git  to 
us  to  do  us  any  harm ;  and  besides,  we  reckoned  they  had 
enough  business  on  their  hands  for  one  while,  anyway,  with 
the  wounded.  We  thought  we'd  chance  it,  and  we  did.  WTe 
swooped  down  and  stopped,  and  Jim  shinned  down  the 
ladder  and  fetched  up  the  kid,  which  was  a  nice  fat  little 
thing,  and  in  a  noble  good  humor,  too,  considering  it  was 
just  out  of  a  battle  and  been  tumbled  off  of  a  horse ;  and 
then  we  started  for  the  mother,  and  stopped  back  of  her  and 
tolerable  near  by,  and  Jim  slipped  down  and  crept  up  easy, 
and  when  he  was  close  back  of  her  the  child  goo-goo'd,  the 
way  a  child  does,  and  she  heard  it,  and  whirled  and  fetched 
a  shriek  of  joy,  and  made  a  jump  for  the  kid  and  snatched 
it  and  hugged  it,  and  dropped  it  and  hugged  Jim,  and  then 
snatched  off  a  gold  chain  and  hung  it  around  Jim's  neck, 
and  hugged  him  again,  and  jerked  up  the  child  again,  a- 
sobbing  and  glorifying  all  the  time ;  and  Jim  he  shoved  for 
the  ladder  and  up  it,  and  in  a  minute  we  was  back  up  in  the 
sky  and  the  woman  was  staring  up,  with  the  back  of  her 
head  between  her  shoulders  and  the  child  with  its  arms 
locked  around  her  neck.  And  there  she  stood,  as  long  as 
we  was  in  sight  a-sailing  away  in  the  sky. 


CHAPTER  VII 
TOM   RESPECTS   THE   FLEA 

"  NOON  I"  says  Tom,  and  so  it  was.  His  shadder  was  just 
a  blot  around  his  feet.  We  looked,  and  the  Grinnage  clock 
was  so  close  to  twelve  the  difference  didn't  amount  to  noth 
ing.  So  Tom  said.  London  was  right  north  of  us  or  right 
south  of  us,  one  or  t'other,  and  he  reckoned  by  the  weather 
and  the  sand  and  the  camels  it  was  north  ;  and  a  good  many 
miles  north,  too ;  as  many  as  from  New  York  to  the  city  of 
Mexico,  he  guessed. 

Jim  said  he  reckoned  a  balloon  was  a  good  deal  the  fast 
est  thing  in  the  world,  unless  it  might  be  some  kinds  of 
birds — a  wild  pigeon,  maybe,  or  a  railroad. 

But  Tom  said  he  had  read  about  railroads  in  England 
going  nearly  a  hundred  miles  an  hour  for  a  little  ways,  and 
there  never  was  a  bird  in  the  world  that  could  do  that — ex 
cept  one,  and  that  was  a  flea. 

"  A  flea  ?  Why,  Mars  Tom,  in  de  fust  place  he  ain't  a 
bird,  strickly  speakin'— 

"  He  ain't  a  bird,  eh  ?     Well,  then,  what  is  he  ?" 

"  I  don't  rightly  know,  Mars  Tom,  but  I  speck  he's  only 
jist  a'  animal.  No,  I  reckon  dat  won't  do,  nuther,  he  ain't 
big  enough  for  a'  animal.  He  mus'  be  a  bug.  Yassir,  dat's 
what  he  is,  he's  a  bug." 

"  I  bet  he  ain't,  but  let  it  go.    What's  your  second  place  ?" 

"  Well,  in  de  second  place,  birds  is  creturs  dat  goes  a  long 
ways,  but  a  flea  don't." 


*• '  AND  WHERE'S  YOUR  RAILROAD,  ALONGSIDE  OF  A  FLEA  ?' 


49 

"  He  don't,  don't  he  ?  Come,  now,  what  is  a  long  distance, 
if  you  know  ?" 

"  Why,  it's  miles,  and  lots  of  'em — anybody  knows  dat." 

"  Can't  a  man  walk  miles  ?" 

"Yassir,  he  kin." 

"  As  many  as  a  railroad  ?" 

"  Yassir,  if  you  give  him  time." 

"  Can't  a  flea  ?" 

"  Well, — I  s'pose  so — ef  you  gives  him  heaps  of  time." 

"  Now  you  begin  to  see,  don't  you,  that  distance  ain't  the 
thing  to  judge  by,  at  all ;  it's  the  time  it  takes  to  go  the  dis 
tance  in  that  counts,  ain't  it?" 

"  Well,  hit  do  look  sorter  so,  but  I  wouldn't  'a'  b'lieved  it, 
Mars  Tom." 

"  It's  a  matter  of  proportion,  that's  what  it  is  ;  and  when 
you  come  to  gauge  a  thing's  speed  by  its  size,  where's  your 
bird  and  your  man  and  your  railroad,  alongside  of  a  flea  ? 
The  fastest  man  can't  run  more  than  about  ten  miles  in  an 
hour — not  much  over  ten  thousand  times  his  own  length. 
But  all  the  books  says  any  common  ordinary  third-class 
flea  can  jump  a  hundred  and  fifty  times  his  own  length ; 
yes,  and  he  can  make  five  jumps  a  second  too,— seven  hun 
dred  and  fifty  times  his  own  length,  in  one  little  second — 
for  he  don't  fool  away  any  time  stopping  and  starting — he 
does  them  both  at  the  same  time ;  you'll  see,  if  you  try  to 
put  your  finger  on  him.  Now  that's  a  common,  ordinary, 
third-class  flea's  gait ;  but  you  take  an  Eyetalian  yfr^-class, 
that's  been' the  pet  of  the  nobility  all  his  life,  and  hasn't  ever 
knowed  what  want  or  sickness  or  exposure  was,  and  he  can 
jump  more  than  three  hundred  times  his  own  length,  and 
keep  it  up  all  day,  five  such  jumps  every  second,  which  is 
fifteen  hundred  times  his  own  length.  Well,  suppose  a  man 
could  go  fifteen  hundred  times  his  own  length  in  a  second — 
say,  a  mile  and  a  half.  It's  ninety  miles  a  minute;  it's 

4TS 


considerable  more  than  five  thousand  miles  an  hour. 
Where's  your  man  now? — yes,  and  your  bird,  and  your 
railroad,  and  your  balloon  ?  Laws,  they  don't  amount  to 
shucks  'longside  of  a  flea.  A  flea  is  just  a  comet  b'iled 
down  small." 

Jim  was  a  good  deal  astonished,  and  so  was  I.  Jim 
said — 

"  Is  dem  figgers  jist  edjackly  true,  en  no  jokin'  en  no  lies, 
Mars  Tom  ?" 

"Yes,  they  are  ;  they're  perfectly  true." 

"  Well,  den,  honey,  a  body's  got  to  respec'  a  flea.  I  ain't 
had  no  respec'  for  urn  befo',  sca'sely,  but  dey  ain't  no  gittin' 
roun'  it,  dey  do  deserve  it,  dat's  certain." 

"  Well,  I  bet  they  do.  They've  got  ever  so  much  more 
sense,  and  brains,  and  brightness,  in  proportion  to  their  size, 
than  any  other  cretur  in  the  world.  A  person  can  learn 
them  'most  anything ;  and  they  learn  it  quicker  than  any 
other  cretur,  too.  They've  been  learnt  to  haul  little  car 
riages  in  harness,  and  go  this  way  and  that  way  and  t'other 
way  according  to  their  orders ;  yes,  and  to  march  and  drill 
like  soldiers,  doing  it  as  exact,  according  to  orders,  as  sol 
diers  does  it.  They've  been  learnt  to  do  all  sorts  of  hard 
and  troublesome  things.  S'pose  you  could  cultivate  a  flea 
up  to  the  size  of  a  man,  and  keep  his  natural  smartness 
a-growing  and  a-growing  right  along  up,  bigger  and  bigger, 
and  keener  and  keener,  in  the  same  proportion — where'd  the 
human  race  be,  do  you  reckon  ?  That  flea  would  be  Presi 
dent  of  the  United  States,  and  you  couldn't  any  more  pre 
vent  it  than  you  can  prevent  lightning." 

"  My  Ian',  Mars  Tom,  I  never  knowed  dey  was  so  much 
to  de  beas'.  No,  sir,  I  never  had  no  idea  of  it,  and  dat's 
de  fac'." 

"  There's  more  to  him,  by  a  long  sight,  than  there  is  to 
any  other  cretur,  man  or  beast,  in  proportion  to  size.  He's 


fc' 


i 


the  interestingest  of  them  all.  People  have  so  much  to  say 
about  an  ant's  strength,  and  an  elephant's,  and  a  locomo 
tive's.  Shucks,  they  don't  begin  with  a  flea.  He  can  lift 
two  or  three  hundred  times  his  own  weight.  And  none  of 
them  can  come  anywhere  near  it.  And,  moreover,  he  has 
got  notions  of  his  own,  and  is  very  particular,  and  you  can't 
fool  him ;  his  instinct,  or  his  judgment,  or  whatever  it  is,  is 
perfectly  sound  and  clear,  and  don't  ever  make  a  mistake. 
People  think  all  humans  are  alike  to  a  flea.  It  ain't  so. 
There's  folks  that  he  won't  go  near,  hungry  or  not  hungry, 
and  I'm  one  of  them.  I've  never  had  one  of  them  on  me 
in  my  life." 

"  Mars  Tom  !" 

"  It's  so  ;  I  ain't  joking." 

"  Well,  sah,  I  hain't  ever  heard  de  likes  o'  dat  befo'." 

Jim  couldn't  believe  it,  and  I  couldn't ;  so  we  had  to  drop 
down  to  the  sand  and  git  a  supply  and  see.  Tom  was 
right.  They  went  for  me  and  Jim  by  the  thousand,  but  not 
a  one  of  them  lit  on  Tom.  There  warn't  no  explaining  it, 
but  there  it  was  and  there  warn't  no  getting  around  it.  He 
said  it  had  always  been  just  so,  and  he'd  just  as  soon  be 
where  there  was  a  million  of  them  as  not ;  they'd  never 
touch  him  nor  bother  him. 

We  went  up  to  the  cold  weather  to  freeze  'em  out,  and 
stayed  a  little  spell,  and  then  come  back  to  the  comfortable 
weather  and  went  lazying  along  twenty  or  twenty-five  miles 
an  hour,  the  way  we'd  been  doing  for  the  last  few  hours. 
The  reason  was,  that  the  longer  we  was  in  that  solemn, 
peaceful  desert,  the  more  the  hurry  and  fuss  got  kind  of 
soothed  down  in  us,  and  the  more  happier  and  contented 
and  satisfied  we  got  to  feeling,  and  the  more  we  got  to  lik 
ing  the  desert,  and  then  loving  it.  So  we  had  cramped  the 
speed  down,  as  I  was  saying,  and  was  having  a  most  noble 
good  lazy  time,  sometimes  watching  through  the  glasses, 


52 

sometimes  stretched  out  on  the  lockers  reading,  sometimes 
taking  a  nap. 

It  didn't  seem  like  we  was  the  same  lot  that  was  in  such 
a  state  to  find  land  and  git  ashore,  but  it  was.  But  we  had 
got  over  that — clean  over  it.  We  was  used  to  the  balloon, 
now,  and  not  afraid  any  more,  and  didn't  want  to  be  any 
wheres  else.  Why,  it  seemed  just  like  home ;  it  'most 
seemed  as  if  I  had  been  born  and  raised  in  it,  and  Jim  and 
Tom  said  the  same.  And  always  I  had  had  hateful  people 
around  me,  a-nagging  at  me,  and  pestering  of  me,  and 
scolding,  and  finding  fault,  and  fussing  and  bothering,  and 
sticking  to  me,  and  keeping  after  me,  and  making  me  do 
this,  and  making  me  do  that  and  t'other,  and  always  select 
ing  out  the  things  I  didn't  want  to  do,  and  then  giving  me 
Sam  Hill  because  I  shirked  and  done  something  else,  and 
just  aggravating  the  life  out  of  a  body  all  the  time  ;  but  up 
here  in  the  sky  it  was  so  still  and  sunshiny  and  lovely,  and 
plenty  to  eat,  and  plenty  of  sleep,  and  strange  things  to  see, 
and  no  nagging  and  no  pestering,  and  no  good  people,  and 
just  holiday  all  the  time.  Land,  I  warn't  in  no  hurry  to  git 
out  and  buck  at  civilization  again.  Now,  one  of  the  worst 
things  about  civilization  is,  that  anybody  that  gits  a  letter 
with  trouble  in  it  comes  and  tells  you  all  about  it  and 
makes  you  feel  bad,  and  the  newspapers  fetches  you  the 
troubles  of  everybody  all  over  the  world,  and  keeps  you 
down-hearted  and  dismal  'most  all  the  time,  and  it's  such  a 
heavy  load  for  a  person.  I  hate  them  newspapers ;  and  I 
hate  letters ;  and  if  I  had  my  way  I  wouldn't  allow  nobody 
to  load  his  troubles  onto  other  folks  he  ain't  acquainted 
with,  on  t'other  side  of  the  world,  that  way.  Well,  up  in  a 
balloon  there  ain't  any  of  that,  and  it's  the  darlingest  place 
there  is. 

We  had  supper,  and  that  night  was  one  of  the  prettiest 
nights  I  ever  see.  The  moon  made  it  just  like  daylight, 


53 

only  a  heap  softer;  and  once  we  see  a  lion  standing  all 
alone  by  himself,  just  all  alone  on  the  earth,  it  seemed 
like,  and  his  shadder  laid  on  the  sand  by  him  like  a  puddle 
of  ink.  That's  the  kind  of  moonlight  to  have. 

Mainly  we  laid  on  our  backs  and  talked  ;  we  didn't  want 
to  go  to  sleep.  Tom  said  we  was  right  in  the  midst  of  the 
Arabian  Nights,  now.  He  said  it  was  right  along  here  that 
one  of  the  cutest  things  in  that  book  happened ;  so  we 
looked  down  and  watched  while  he  told  about  it,  because 
there  ain't  anything  that  is  so  interesting  to  look  at  as  a 
place  that  a  book  has  talked  about.  It  was  a  tale  about  a 
camel-driver  that  had  lost  his  camel,  and  he  come  along  in 
the  desert  and  met  a  man,  and  says — 

"  Have  you  run  across  a  stray  camel  to-day  ?" 

And  the  man  says — 

"  Was  he  blind  in  his  left  eye  ?" 

"  Yes." 

"  Had  he  lost  an  upper  front  tooth  ?" 

"  Yes." 

"  Was  his  off  hind  leg  lame  ?" 

"  Yes." 

"  Was  he  loaded  with  millet-seed  on  one  side  and  honey 
on  the  other?" 

"  Yes,  but  you  needn't  go  into  no  more  details — that's 
the  one,  and  I'm  in  a  hurry.  Where  did  you  see  him  ?" 

"  I  hain't  seen  him  at  all,"  the  man  says. 

"  Hain't  seen  him  at  all  ?  How  can  you  describe  him  so 
close,  then  ?" 

"  Because  when  a  person  knows  how  to  use  his  eyes, 
everything  has  got  a  meaning  to  it ;  but  most  people's  eyes 
ain't  any  good  to  them.  I  knowed  a  camel  had  been  along, 
because  I  seen  his  track.  I  knowed  he  was  lame  in  his  off 
hind  leg  because  he  had  favored  that  foot  and  trod  light 
on  it,  and  his  track  showed  it.  I  knowed  he  was  blind  on 


54 


his  left  side  because  he  only  nibbled  the  grass  on  the  right 
side  of  the  trail.  I  knowed  he  had  lost  an  upper  front 
tooth  because  where  he  bit  into  the  sod  his  teeth-print 
showed  it.  The  millet-seed  sifted  out  on  one  side  —  the 
ants  told  me  that ;  the  honey  leaked  out  on  the  other — 
the  flies  told  me  that.  I  know  all  about  your  camel,  but 
I  hain't  seen  him." 

Jim  says — 

"  Go  on,  Mars  Tom,  hit's  a  mighty  good  tale,  and  power 
ful  interestin'." 

"  That's  all,"  Tom  says. 

11  All r  says  Jim,  astonished.  "What  'come  o'  de 
camel  ?" 

"  I  don't  know." 

"  Mars  Tom,  don't  de  tale  say  ?" 

"  No." 

Jim  puzzled  a  minute,  then  he  says — 

"  Well  !  Ef  dat  ain't  de  beatenes'  tale  ever  /  struck. 
Jist  gits  to  de  place  whah  de  intrust  is  gittin'  red-hot,  en 
down  she  breaks.  Why,  Mars  Tom,  dey  ain't  no  sense  in 
a  tale  dat  acts  like  dat.  Hain't  you  got  no  idea  whether 
de  man  got  de  camel  back  er  not  ?" 

"  No,  I  haven't." 

I  see,  myself,  there  warn't  no  sense  in  the  tale,  to  chop 
square  off,  that  way,  before  it  come  to  anything,  but  I 
warn't  going  to  say  so,  because  I  could  see  Tom  was  sour 
ing  up  pretty  fast  over  the  way  it  flatted  out  and  the  way 
Jim  had  popped  onto  the  weak  place  in  it,  and  I  don't 
think  it's  fair  for  everybody  to  pile  onto  a  feller  when  he's 
down.  But  Tom  he  whirls  on  me  and  says — 

"  What  do  you  think  of  the  tale  ?" 

Of  course,  then,  I  had  to  come  out  and  make  a  clean 
breast  and  say  it  did  seem  to  me,  too,  same  as  it  did  to 
Jim,  that  as  long  as  the  tale  stopped  square  in  the  middle 


55 

and  never  got  to  no  place,  it  really  warn't  worth  the  trouble 
of  telling. 

Tom's  chin  dropped  on  his  breast,  and  'stead  of  being 
mad,  as  I  reckoned  he'd  be,  to  hear  me  scoff  at  his  tale 
that  way,  he  seemed  to  be  only  sad  ;  and  he  says — 

"Some  people  can  see,  and  some  can't — just  as  that 
man  said.  Let  alone  a  camel,  if  a  cyclone  had  gone  by, 
you  duffers  wouldn't  'a'  noticed  the  track." 

I  don't  know  what  he  meant  by  that,  and  he  didn't  say; 
it  was  just  one  of  his  irrulevances,  I  reckon — he  was  full  of 
them,  sometimes,  when  he  was  in  a  close  place  and  couldn't 
see  no  other  way  out — but  I  didn't  mind.  "We'd  spotted 
the  soft  place  in  that  tale  sharp  enough,  he  couldn't  git 
away  from  that  little  fact.  It  gravelled  him  like  the  nation, 
too,  I  reckon,  much  as  he  tried  not  to  let  on. 


CHAPTER  VIII 
THE    DISAPPEARING    LAKE 

WE  had  an  early  breakfast  in  the  morning,  and  set  look 
ing  down  on  the  desert,  and  the  weather  was  ever  so  bam- 
my  and  lovely,  although  we  warn't  high  up.  You  have  tc 
come  down  lower  and  lower  after  sundown,  in  the  desert, 
because  it  cools  off  so  fast ;  and  so,  by  the  time  it  is  getting 
towards  dawn  you  are  skimming  along  only  a  little  ways 
above  the  sand. 

We  was  watching  the  shadder  of  the  balloon  slide  along 
the  ground,  and  now  and  then  gazing  off  across  the  desert 
to  see  if  anything  was  stirring,  and  then  down  on  the  shad 
der  again,  when  all  of  a  sudden  almost  right  under  us  we 
see  a  lot  of  men  and  camels  laying  scattered  about,  perfect 
ly  quiet,  like  they  was  asleep. 

We  shut  off  the  power,  and  backed  up  and  stood  over 
them,  and  then  we  see  that  they  was  all  dead.  It  give  us 
the  cold  shivers.  And  it  made  us  hush  down,  too,  and  talk 
low,  like  people  at  a  funeral.  We  dropped  down  slow,  and 
stopped,  and  me  and  Tom  dumb  down  and  went  amongst 
them.  There  was  men,  and  women,  and  children.  They 
was  dried  by  the  sun  and  dark  and  shrivelled  and  leathery, 
like  the  pictures  of  mummies  you  see  in  books.  And  yet 
they  looked  just  as  human,  you  wouldn't  'a'  believed  it : 
just  like  they  was  asleep. 

Some  of  the  people  and  animals  was  partly  covered  with 
sand,  but  most  of  them  not,  for  the  sand  was  thin  there, 


57 

and  the  bed  was  gravel,  and  hard.  Most  of  the  clothes  had 
rotted  away ;  and  when  you  took  hold  of  a  rag,  it  tore  with 
a  touch,  like  spider-web.  Tom  reckoned  they  had  been 
laying  there  for  years. 

Some  of  the  men  had  rusty  guns  by  them,  some  had 
swords  on  and  had  shawl  belts  with  long,  silver-mounted 
pistols  stuck  in  them.  All  the  camels  had  their  loads  on, 
yet,  but  the  packs  had  busted  or  rotted  and  spilt  the  freight 
out  on  the  ground.  We  didn't  reckon  the  swords  was  any 
good  to  the  dead  people  any  more,  so  we  took  one  apiece, 
and  some  pistols.  We  took  a  small  box,  too,  because  it 
was  so  handsome  and  inlaid  so  fine  ;  and  then  we  wanted 
to  bury  the  people  ;  but  there  warn't  no  way  to  do  it  that 
we  could  think  of,  and  nothing  to  do  it  with  but  sand,  and 
that  would  blow  away  again,  of  course. 

Then  we  mounted  high  and  sailed  away,  and  pretty  soon 
that  black  spot  on  the  sand  was  out  of  sight  and  we  wouldn't 
ever  see  them  poor  people  again  in  this  world.  We  won 
dered,  and  reasoned,  and  tried  to  guess  how  they  come  to 
be  there,  and  how  it  all  happened  to  them,  but  we  couldn't 
make  it  out.  First  we  thought  maybe  they  got  lost,  and 
wandered  around  and  about  till  their  food  and  water  give 
out  and  they  starved  to  death ;  but  Tom  said  no  wild  ani 
mals  nor  vultures  hadn't  meddled  with  them,  and  so  that 
guess  wouldn't  do.  So  at  last  we  give  it  up,  and  judged 
we  wouldn't  think  about  it  no  more,  because  it  made  us 
low-spirited. 

Then  we  opened  the  box,  and  it  had  gems  and  jewels  in 
it,  quite  a  pile,  and  some  little  veils  of  the  kind  the  dead 
women  had  on,  with  fringes  made  out  of  curious  gold  money 
that  we  warn't  acquainted  with.  We  wondered  if  we  bet 
ter  go  and  try  to  find  them  again  and  give  it  back ;  but 
Tom  thought  it  over  and  said  no,  it  was  a  country  that  was 
full  of  robbers,  and  they  would  come  and  steal  it,  and  then 


the  sin  would  be  on  us  for  putting  the  temptation  in  their 
way.  So  we  went  on  ;  but  I  wished  we  had  took  all  they 
had,  so  there  wouldn't  'a'  been  no  temptation  at  all  left. 

We  had  had  two  hours  of  that  blazing  weather  down  there, 
and  was  dreadful  thirsty  when  we  got  aboard  again.  We 
went  straight  for  the  water,  but  it  was  spoiled  and  bitter, 
besides  being  pretty  near  hot  enough  to  scald  your  mouth. 
We  couldn't  drink  it.  It  was  Mississippi  River  water,  the 
best  in  the  world,  and  we  stirred  up  the  mud  in  it  to  see  if 
that  would  help,  but  no,  the  mud  wasn't  any  better  than 
the  water. 

Well,  we  hadn't  been  so  very,  very  thirsty  before,  whilst 
we  was  interested  in  the  lost  people,  but  we  was,  now,  and 
as  soon  as  we  found  we  couldn't  have  a  drink,  we  was  more 
than  thirty-five  times  as  thirsty  as  we  was  a  quarter  of  a 
minute  before.  Why,  in  a  little  while  we  wanted  to  hold 
our  mouths  open  and  pant  like  a  dog. 

Tom  said  to  keep  a  sharp  lookout,  all  around,  every- 
wheres,  because  we'd  got  to  find  an  oasis  or  there  warn't 
no  telling  what  would  happen.  So  we  done  it.  We  kept 
the  glasses  gliding  around  all  the  time,  till  our  arms  got 
so  tired  we  couldn't  hold  them  any  more.  Two  hours — 
three  hours — just  gazing  and  gazing,  and  nothing  but  sand, 
sand,  sand,  and  you  could  see  the  quivering  heat-shimmer 
playing  over  it.  Dear,  dear,  a  body  don't  know  what  real 
misery  is  till  he  is  thirsty  all  the  way  through  and  is  certain 
he  ain't  ever  going  to  come  to  any  water  any  more.  At  last 
I  couldn't  stand  it  to  look  around  on  them  baking  plains  ;  I 
laid  down  on  the  locker,  and  give  it  up. 

But  by-and-by  Tom  raised  a  whoop,  and  there  she  was ! 
A  lake,  wide  and  shiny,  with  pa'm-trees  leaning  over  it 
asleep,  and  their  shadders  in  the  water  just  as  soft  and 
delicate  as  ever  you  see.  I  never  see  anything  look  so 
good.  It  was  a  long  ways  off,  but  that  warn't  anything  to 


I 


59 

us ;  we  just  slapped  on  a  hundred-mile  gait,  and  calculated 
to  be  there  in  seven  minutes ;  but  she  stayed  the  same  old 
distance  away,  all  the  time ;  we  couldn't  seem  to  gain  on 
her ;  yes,  sir,  just  as  far,  and  shiny,  and  like  a  dream  ;  but 
we  couldn't  get  no  nearer;  and  at  last,  all  of  a  sudden, 
she  was  gone ! 

Tom's  eyes  took  a  spread,  and  he  says — 

"  Boys,  it  was  a  Bridge  !"  Said  it  like  he  was  glad.  I 
didn't  see  nothing  to  be  glad  about.  I  says — 

"  Maybe.  I  don't  care  nothing  about  its  name,  the  thing 
I  want  to  know  is,  what's  become  of  it  ?" 

Jim  was  trembling  all  over,  and  so  scared  he  couldn't 
speak,  but  he  wanted  to  ask  that  question  himself  if  he 
could  'a'  done  it.  Tom  says — 

"  What's  become  of  it  ?    Why,  you  see,  yourself,  it's  gone." 

"Yes,  I  know;  but  where's  it  gone  to T"* 

He  looked  me  over  and  says — 

"  Well,  now,  Huck  Finn,  where  would  it  go  to !  Don't 
you  know  what  a  myridge  is  ?" 

"  No,  I  don't.     What  is  it  ?" 

"  It  ain't  anything  but  imagination.  There  ain't  anything 
to  it." 

It  warmed  me  up  a  little  to  hear  him  talk  like  that,  and  I 
says — 

"  What's  the  use  you  talking  that  kind  of  stuff,  Tom 
Sawyer  ?  Didn't  I  see  the  lake  ?" 

"Yes — you  think  you  did." 

"I  don't  think  nothing  about  it,  I  did  see  it." 

"  I  tell  you  you  didn't  see  it  either  —  because  it  warn't 
there  to  see." 

It  astonished  Jim  to  hear  him  talk  so,  and  he  broke  in 
and  says,  kind  of  pleading  and  distressed — 

"Mars  Tom,#£ease  don't  say  sich  things  in  sich  an  awful 
time  as  dis.  You  ain't  only  reskin'  yo'  own  self,  but  you's 


6o 


reskin'  us — same  way  like  Anna  Nias  en  Siffira.  De  lake 
wuz  dah — I  seen  it  jis'  as  plain  as  I  sees  you  en  Huck  dis 
minute." 

I  says — 

"  Why,  he  seen  it  himself !  He  was  the  very  one  that 
seen  it  first.  Now,  then  !" 

"Yes,  Mars  Tom,  hit's  so — you  can't  deny  it.  We  all 
seen  it,  en  dat prove  it  was  dah." 

"  Proves  it !     How  does  it  prove  it  ?" 

"Same  way  it  does  in  de  courts  en  everywheres,  Mars 
Tom.  One  pusson  might  be  drunk,  or  dreamy  or  suthin', 
en  he  could  be  mistaken;  en  two  might,  maybe;  but  I  tell 
you,  sah,  when  three  sees  a  thing,  drunk  er  sober,  it's  so. 
Dey  ain't  no  gittin'  aroun'  dat,  en  you  knows  it,  Mars 
Tom." 

"  I  don't  know  nothing  of  the  kind.  There  used  to  be 
forty  thousand  million  people  that  seen  the  sun  move  from 
one  side  of  the  sky  to  the  other  every  day.  Did  that  prove 
that  the  sun  done  it?" 

"  Course  it  did.  En  besides,  dey  warn't  no  'casion  to 
prove  it.  A  body  'at's  got  any  sense  ain't  gwine  to  doubt 
it.  Dah  she  is,  now — a  sailin'  thoo  de  sky,  like  she  allays 
done." 

Tom  turned  on  me,  then,  and  says — 

"What  &Q you  say — is  the  sun  standing  still?" 

"  Tom  Sawyer,  what's  the  use  to  ask  such  a  jackass 
question?  Anybody  that  ain't  blind  can  see  it  don't  stand 
still." 

"  Well,"  he  says,  "  I'm  lost  in  the  sky  with  no  company 
but  a  passel  of  low-down  animals  that  don't  know  no  more 
than  the  head  boss  of  a  university  did  three  or  four  hun 
dred  years  ago." 

It  warn't  fair  play,  and  I  let  him  know  it.     I  says — 

"  Throwin'  mud  ain't  arguin',  Tom  Sawyer." 


6i 


"  Oh,  my  goodness,  oh,  my  goodness  gracious,  dah's  de 
Jake  ag'in  !"  yelled  Jim,  just  then.  "Now,  Mars  Tom,  what 
you  gwine  to  say?" 

Yes,  sir,  there  was  the  lake  again,  away  yonder  across  the 
desert,  perfectly  plain,  trees  and  all,  just  the  same  as  it  was 
before.  I  says — 

"  I  reckon  you're  satisfied  now,  Tom  Sawyer." 

But  he  says,  perfectly  ca'm — 

"Yes,  satisfied  there  ain't  no  lake  there." 

Jim  says — 

"  Don't  talk  so,  Mars  Tom — it  sk'yers  me  to  hear  you.  It's 
so  hot,  en  you's  so  thirsty,  dat  you  ain't  in  yo'  right  mine, 
Mars  Tom.  Oh,  but  don't  she  look  good  !  'clah  I  doan' 
know  how  I's  gwine  to  wait  tell  we  gits  dah,  I's  so  thirsty." 

"  Well,  you'll  have  to  wait ;  and  it  won't  do  you  no  good, 
either,  because  there  ain't  no  lake  there,  I  tell  you." 

I  says — 

"  Jim,  don't  you  take  your  eye  off  of  it,  and  I  won't, 
either." 

'"Deed  I  won't;  en  bless  you,  honey,  I  couldn't  ef  I 
wanted  to." 

We  went  a-tearing  along  toward  it,  piling  the  miles  be 
hind  us  like  nothing,  but  never  gaining  an  inch  on  it — and 
all  of  a  sudden  it  was  gone  again !  Jim  staggered,  and 
'most  fell  down.  When  he  got  his  breath  he  says,  gasping 
like  a  fish — 

"  Mars  Tom,  hit's  a  ghos\  dat's  what  it  is,  en  I  hopes  to 
goodness  we  ain't  gwine  to  see  it  no  mo'.  Dey's  been  a  lake, 
en  suthin's  happened,  en  de  lake's  dead,  en  we's  seen  its 
ghos' ;  we's  seen  it  twiste,  en  dat's  proof.  De  desert's 
ha'nted,  it's  ha'nted,  sho ;  oh,  Mars  Tom,  le'  's  git  outen  it  • 
I'd  ruther  die  den  have  de  night  ketch  us  in  it  ag'in  en  de 
ghos'  er  dat  lake  come  a-mournin'  aroun'  us  en  we  asleep  en 
doan'  know  de  danger  we's  in." 


62 


"  Ghost,  you  gander !  It  ain't  anything  but  air  and  heat 
and  thirstiness  pasted  together  by  a  person's  imagination. 
If  I — gimme  the  glass  !" 

He  grabbed  it  and  begun  to  gaze  off  to  the  right. 

"  It's  a  flock  of  birds,"  he  says.  "  It's  getting  toward 
sundown,  and  they're  making  a  bee-line  across  our  track 
for  somewheres.  They  mean  business — maybe  they're  go 
ing  for  food  or  water,  or  both.  Let  her  go  to  starboard  ! — 
Port  your  helium  !  Hard  down  !  There — ease  up— steady, 
as  you  go." 

We  shut  down  some  of  the  power,  so  as  not  to  outspeed 
them,  and  took  out  after  them.  We  went  skimming  along 
a  quarter  of  a  mile  behind  them,  and  when  we  had  followed 
them  an  hour  and  a  half  and  was  getting  pretty  discouraged, 
and  was  thirsty  clean  to  unendurableness,  Tom  says — 

"Take  the  glass,  one  of  you,  and  see  what  that  is,  away 
ahead  of  the  birds." 

Jim  got  the  first  glimpse,  and  slumped  down  on  the  locker, 
sick.  He  was  most  crying,  and  says — 

"  She's  dah  ag'in,  Mars  Tom,  she's  dah  ag'in,  en  I  knows 
I's  gwine  to  die,  'case  when  a  body  sees  a  ghos'  de  third 
time,  dat's  what  it  means.  I  wisht  I'd  never  come  in  dis 
balloon,  dat  I  does." 

He  wouldn't  look  no  more,  and  what  he  said  made  me 
afraid,  too,  because  I  knowed  it  was  true,  for  that  has  always 
been  the  way  with  ghosts  ;  so  then  I  wouldn't  look  any  more, 
either.  Both  of  us  begged  Tom  to  turn  off  and  go  some 
other  way,  but  he  wouldn't,  and  said  we  was  ignorant  super 
stitious  blatherskites.  Yes,  and  he'll  git  come  up  with,  one 
of  these  days,  I  says  to  myself,  insulting  ghosts  that  way. 
They'll  stand  it  for  a  while,  maybe,  but  they  won't  stand  it 
always,  for  anybody  that  knows  about  ghosts  knows  how 
easy  they  are  hurt,  and  how  revengeful  they  are. 

So  we  was  all  quiet  and  still,  Jim  and  me  being  scared, 


and  Tom  busy.  By-and-by  Tom  fetched  the  balloon  to  a 
standstill,  and  says — 

'•''Now  get  up  and  look,  you  sapheads." 

We  done  it,  and  there  was  the  sure -enough  water  right 
under  us  ! — clear,  and  blue,  and  cool,  and  deep,  and  wavy 
with  the  breeze,  the  loveliest  sight  that  ever  was.  And  all 
about  it  was  grassy  banks,  and  flowers,  and  shady  groves 
of  big  trees,  looped  together  with  vines,  and  all  looking  so 
peaceful  and  comfortable — enough  to  make  a  body  cry,  it 
was  so  beautiful. 

Jim  did  cry,  and  rip  and  dance  and  carry  on,  he  was  so 
thankful  and  out  of  his  mind  for  joy.  It  was  my  watch, 
so  I  had  to  stay  by  the  works,  but  Tom  and  Jim  clumb 
down  and  drunk  a  barrel  apiece,  and  fetched  me  up  a  lot, 
and  I've  tasted  a  many  a  good  thing  in  my  life,  but  nothing 
that  ever  begun  with  that  water. 

Then  we  went  down  and  had  a  swim,  and  then  Tom 
came  up  and  spelled  me,  and  me  and  Jim  had  a  swim,  and 
then  Jim  spelled  Tom,  and  me  and  Tom  had  a  foot-race 
and  a  boxing-mill,  and  I  don't  reckon  I  ever  had  such  a 
good  time  in  my  life.  It  warn't  so  very  hot,  because  it  was 
close  on  to  evening,  and  we  hadn't  any  clothes  on,  anyway. 
Clothes  is  well  enough  in  school,  and  in  towns,  and  at  balls, 
too,  but  there  ain't  no  sense  in  them  when  there  ain't  no 
civilization  nor  other  kinds  of  bothers  and  fussiness  around. 

"  Lions  a-comin' ! — lions  !  Quick,  Mars  Tom !  Jump  for 
yo'  life,  Huck  !" 

Oh,  and  didn't  we !  We  never  stopped  for  clothes,  but 
waltzed  up  the  ladder  just  so.  Jim  lost  his  head  straight 
off — he  always  done  it  whenever  he  got  excited  and  scared ; 
and  so  now,  'stead  of  just  easing  the  ladder  up  from  the 
ground  a  little,  so  the  animals  couldn't  reach  it,  he  turned 
on  a  raft  of  power,  and  we  went  whizzing  up  and  was  dan 
gling  in  the  sky  before  he  got  his  wits  together  and  seen 


64 

what  a  foolish  thing  he  was  doing.  Then  he  stopped  her, 
but  he  had  clean  forgot  what  to  do  next  -,  so  there  we  was, 
so  high  that  the  lions  looked  like  pups,  and  we  was  drifting 
off  on  the  wind. 

But  Tom  he  shinned  up  and  went  for  the  works  and 
begun  to  slant  her  down,  and  back  toward  the  lake,  where 
the  animals  was  gathering  like  a  camp-meeting,  and  I  judged 
he  had  lost  his  head,  too ;  for  he  knowed  I  was  too  scared 
to  climb,  and  did  he  want  to  dump  me  among  the  tigers 
and  things  ? 

But  no,  his  head  was  level,  he  knowed  what  he  was  about. 
He  swooped  down  to  within  thirty  or  forty  feet  of  the  lake, 
and  stopped  right  over  the  centre,  and  sung  out — 

"  Leggo,  and  drop  !" 

I  done  it,  and  shot  down,  feet  first,  and  seemed  to  go 
about  a  mile  toward  the  bottom  ;  and  when  I  come  up,  he 
says — 

"  Now  lay  on  your  back  and  float  till  you're  rested  and 
got  your  pluck  back,  then  I'll  dip  the  ladder  in  the  water 
and  you  can  climb  aboard." 

I  done  it.  Now  that  was  ever  so  smart  in  Tom,  because 
if  he  had  started  off  somewheres  else  to  drop  down  on  the 
sand,  the  menagerie  would  'a'  come  along,  too,  and  might 
'a'  kept  us  hunting  a  safe  place  till  I  got  tuckered  out  and 
fell. 

And  all  this  time  the  lions  and  tigers  was  sorting  out  the 
clothes,  and  trying  to  divide  them  up  so  there  would  be 
some  for  all,  but  there  was  a  misunderstanding  about  it 
somewheres,  on  account  of  some  of  them  trying  to  hog 
more  than  their  share  5  so  there  was  another  insurrection, 
and  you  never  see  anything  like  it  in  the  world.  There 
must  'a'  been  fifty  of  them,  all  mixed  up  together,  snort 
ing  and  roaring  and  snapping  and  biting  and  tearing,  legs 
and  tails  in  the  air,  and  you  couldn't  tell  which  was  which, 


"AND  ALL  THIS  TIME  THE  LIONS  AND  TIGERS  WAS  SORTING  OUT  THE 

CLOTHES " 


65 

and  the  sand  and  fur  a-flying.  And  when  they  got  done, 
some  was  dead,  and  some  was  limping  off  crippled,  and 
the  rest  was  setting  around  on  the  battle-field,  some  of  them 
licking  their  sore  places  and  the  others  looking  up  at  us 
and  seemed  to  be  kind  of  inviting  us  to  come  down  and 
have  some  fun,  but  which  we  didn't  want  any. 

As  for  the  clothes,  they  warn't  any,  any  more.  Every 
last  rag  of  them  was  inside  of  the  animals ;  and  not  agree 
ing  with  them  very  well,  I  don?t  reckon,  for  there  was  con 
siderable  many  brass  buttons  on  them,  and  there  was 
knives  in  the  pockets,  too,  and  smoking-tobacco,  and  nails 
and  chalk  and  marbles  and  fish-hooks  and  things.  But  I 
wasn't  caring.  All  that  was  bothering  me  was,  that  all  we 
had,  now,  was  the  professor's  clothes,  a  big  enough  assort 
ment,  but  not  suitable  to  go  into  company  with,  if  we  came 
across  any,  because  the  britches  was  as  long  as  tunnels, 
and  the  coats  and  things  according.  Still,  there  was  every 
thing  a  tailor  needed,  and  Jim  was  a  kind  of  jack-legged 
tailor,  and  he  allowed  he  could  soon  trim  a  suit  or  two 
down  for  us  that  would  answer. 

5TS 


CHAPTER    IX 
TOM    DISCOURSES    ON    THE    DESERT 

STILL,  we  thought  we  would  drop  down  there  a  minute, 
but  on  another  errand.  Most  of  the  professor's  cargo  of 
food  was  put  up  in  cans,  in  the  new  way  that  somebody 
had  just  invented ;  the  rest  was  fresh.  When  you  fetch 
Missouri  beefsteak  to  the  Great  Sahara,  you  want  to  be 
particular  and  stay  up  in  the  coolish  weather.  So  we 
reckoned  we  would  drop  down  into  the  lion  market  and 
see  how  we  could  make  out  there. 

We  hauled  in  the  ladder  and  dropped  down  till  we  was 
just  above  the  reach  of  the  animals,  then  we  let  down  a 
rope  with  a  slip-knot  in  it  and  hauled  up  a  dead  lion,  a 
small  tender  one,  then  yanked  up  a  cub  tiger.  We  had  to 
keep  the  congregation  off  with  the  revolver,  or  they  would 
'a'  took  a  hand  in  the  proceedings  and  helped. 

We  carved  off  a  supply  from  both,  and  saved  the  skins, 
and  hove  the  rest  overboard.  Then  we  baited  some  of  the 
professor's  hooks  with  the  fresh  meat  and  went  a-fishing. 
We  stood  over  the  lake  just  a  convenient  distance  above 
the  water,  and  catched  a  lot  of  the  nicest  fish  you  ever  see. 
It  was  a  most  amazing  good  supper  we  had ;  lion  steak, 
tiger  steak,  fried  fish,  and  hot  corn-pone.  I  don't  want 
nothing  better  than  that. 

We  had  some  fruit  to  finish  off  with.  We  got  it  out  of 
the  top  of  a  monstrous  tall  tree.  It  was  a  very  slim  tree 
that  hadn't  a  branch  on  it  from  the  bottom  plumb  to  the 


67 

top,  and  there  it  bursted  out  like  a  feather-duster.  It  was 
a  pa'm-tree,  of  course  ;  anybody  knows  a  pa'm-tree  the 
minute  he  see  it,  by  the  pictures.  We  went  for  coconuts 
in  this  one,  but  there  warn't  none.  There  was  only  big 
loose  bunches  of  things  like  over- sized  grapes,  and  Tom 
allowed  they  was  dates,  because  he  said  they  answered  the 
description  in  the  Arabian  Nights  and  the  other  books. 
Of  course  they  mightn't  be,  and  they  might  be  poison  ; 
so  we  had  to  wait  a  spell,  and  watch  and  see  if  the  birds  et 
them.  They  done  it ;  so  we  done  it  too,  and  they  was  most 
amazing  good. 

By  this  time  monstrous  big  birds  begun  to  come  and 
settle  on  the  dead  animals.  They  was  plucky  creturs; 
they  would  tackle  one  end  of  a  lion  that  was  being  gnawed 
at  the  other  end  by  another  lion.  If  the  lion  drove  the 
bird  away,  it  didn't  do  no  good  ;  he  was  back  again  the 
minute  the  lion  was  busy. 

The  big  birds  come  out  of  every  part  of  the  sky — you 
could  make  them  out  with  the  glass  whilst  they  was  still  so 
far  away  you  couldn't  see  them  with  your  naked  eye.  Tom 
said  the  birds  didn't  find  out  the  meat  was  there  by  the 
smell ;  they  had  to  find  it  out  by  seeing  it.  Oh,  but  ain't 
that  an  eye  for  you !  Tom  said  at  the  distance  of  five 
mile  a  patch  of  dead  lions  couldn't  look  any  bigger  than  a 
person's  finger-nail,  and  he  couldn't  imagine  how  the  birds 
could  notice  such  a  little  thing  so  far  off. 

It  was  strange  and  unnatural  to  see  lion  eat  lion,  and  we 
thought  maybe  they  warn't  kin.  But  Jim  said  that  didn't 
make  no  difference.  He  said  a  hog  was  fond  of  her  own 
children,  and  so  was  a  spider,  and  he  reckoned  maybe  a 
lion  was  pretty  near  as  unprincipled  though  maybe  not 
quite.  He  thought  likely  a  lion  wouldn't  eat  his  own 
father,  if  he  knowed  which  was  him,  but  reckoned  he  would 
eat  his  brother-in-law  if  he  was  uncommon  hungry,  and  eat 


68 


his  mother-in-law  any  time.  But  reckoning  don't  settle 
nothing.  You  can  reckon  till  the  cows  come  home,  but 
that  don't  fetch  you  to  no  decision.  So  we  give  it  up  and 
let  it  drop. 

Generly  it  was  very  still  in  the  Desert,  nights,  but  this 
time  there  was  music.  A  lot  of  other  animals  come  to 
dinner;  sneaking  yelpers  that  Tom  allowed  was  jackals, 
and  roached-backed  ones  that  he  said  was  hyenas ;  and  all 
the  whole  biling  of  them  kept  up  a  racket  all  the  time. 
They  made  a  picture  in  the  moonlight  that  was  more  dif 
ferent  than  any  picture  I  ever  see.  We  had  a  line  out  and 
made  fast  to  the  top  of  a  tree,  and  didn't  stand  no  watch, 
but  all  turned  in  and  slept;  but  I  was  up  two  or  three  times 
to  look  down  at  the  animals  and  hear  the  music.  It  was 
like  having  a  front  seat  at  a  menagerie  for  nothing,  which 
I  hadn't  ever  had  before,  and  so  it  seemed  foolish  to  sleep 
and  not  make  the  most  of  it;  I  mightn't  ever  have  such  a 
chance  again. 

We  went  a -fishing  again  in  the  early  dawn,  and  then 
lazied  around  all  day  in  the  deep  shade  on  an  island,  taking 
turn  about  to  watch  and  see  that  none  of  the  animals  come 
a-snooping  around  there  after  erronorts  for  dinner.  We 
was  going  to  leave  the  next  day,  but  couldn't,  it  was  too 
lovely. 

The  day  after,  when  we  rose  up  toward  the  sky  and  sailed 
off  eastward,  we  looked  back  and  watched  that  place  till  it 
warn't  nothing  but  just  a  speck  in  the  Desert,  and  I  tell  you 
it  was  like  saying  good-by  to  a  friend  that  you  ain't  ever 
going  to  see  any  more. 

Jim  was  thinking  to  himself,  and  at  last  he  says— 

"  Mars  Tom,  we's  mos'  to  de  end  er  de  Desert  now,  I 
speck." 

"Why?" 

"  Well,  hit  stan'  to  reason  we  is.     You  knows  how  long 


69 

we's  been  a-skimmin'  over  it.  Mus'  be  mos'  out  o'  san'. 
Hit's  a  wonder  to  me  dat  it's  hilt  out  as  long  as  it  has." 

"  Shucks,  there's  plenty  sand,  you  needn't  worry." 

"  Oh,  I  ain't  a-worryin',  Mars  Tom,  only  wonderin',  dat's 
all.  De  Lord's  got  plenty  san',  I  ain't  doubtin'  dat;  but 
nemmine,  He  ain'  gwyne  to  was'e  it  jist  on  dat  account ;  en 
I  allows  dat  dis  Desert's  plenty  big  enough  now,  jist  de  way 
she  is,  en  you  can't  spread  her  out  no  mo'  'dout  was'in 
san'." 

"  Oh,  go  'long !  we  ain't  much  more  than  fairly  started 
across  this  Desert  yet.  The  United  States  is  a  pretty  big 
country,  ain't  it  ?  Ain't  it,  Huck  ?" 

"  Yes,"  I  says,  "  there  ain't  no  bigger  one,  I  don't 
reckon." 

"  Well,"  he  says,  "  this  Desert  is  about  the  shape  of  the 
United  States,  and  if  you  was  to  lay  it  down  on  top  of 
the  United  States,  it  would  cover  the  land  of  the  free  out 
of  sight  like  a  blanket.  There'd  be  a  little  corner  sticking 
out,  up  at  Maine  and  away  up  northwest,  and  Florida  stick- 
ing  out  like  a  turtle's  tail,  and  that's  all.  We've  took  Cali 
fornia  away  from  the  Mexicans  two  or  three  years  ago,  so 
that  part  of  the  Pacific  coast  is  ours,  now,  and  if  you  laid 
the  Great  Sahara  down  with  her  edge  on  the  Pacific,  she 
would  cover  the  United  States  and  stick  out  past  New  York 
six  hundred  miles  into  the  Atlantic  Ocean." 

I  say — 

"  Good  land  !  have  you  got  the  documents  for  that,  Tom 
Sawyer  ?" 

"Yes,  and  they're  right  here,  and  I've  been  studying  them. 
You  can  look  for  yourself.  From  New  York  to  the  Pacific 
is  2600  miles.  From  one  end  of  the  Great  Desert  to  the 
other  is  3200.  The  United  States  contains  3,600,000 
square  miles,  the  Desert  contains  4,162,000.  With  the 
Desert's  bulk  you  could  cover  up  every  last  inch  of  the 


70 

United  States,  and  in  under  where  the  edges  projected  out, 
you  could  tuck  England,  Scotland,  Ireland,  France,  Den 
mark,  and  all  Germany.  Yes,  sir,  you  could  hide  the  home 
of  the  brave  and  all  of  them  countries  clean  out  of  sight 
under  the  Great  Sahara,  and  you  would  still  have  2000 
square  miles  of  sand  left." 

"Well,"  I  says,  "  it  clean  beats  me.  Why,  Tom,  it  shows 
that  the  Lord  took  as  much  pains  makin'  this  Desert  as 
makin'  the  United  States  and  all  them  other  countries." 

Jim  says — "  Huck,  dat  don'  stan'  to  reason.  I  reckon  dis 
Desert  wa'n't  made  at  all.  Now  you  take  en  look  at  it  like 
dis — you  look  at  it,  and  see  ef  I's  right.  What's  a  desert 
good  for?  'Tain't  good  for  nuthin'.  Dey  ain't  no  way  to 
make  it  pay.  Hain't  dat  so,  Huck?" 

"  Yes,  I  reckon." 

"  Hain't  it  so,  Mars  Tom  ?" 

"  I  guess  so.     Go  on." 

"  Ef  a  thing  ain't  no  good,  it's  made  in  vain,  ain't  it  ?" 

"  Yes." 

"  Now,  den  !  Do  de  Lord  make  anything  in  vain  ?  You 
answer  me  dat." 

"Well— no,  He  don't." 

"  Den  how  come  He  make  a  desert  ?" 

"  Well,  go  on.  How  did  He  come  to  make  it  ?" 
x  "  Mars  Tom,  /  b'lieve  it  uz  jes  like  when  you's  buildin'  a 
house  ;  dey's  allays  a  lot  o'  truck  en  rubbish  lef '  over.  What 
does  you  do  wid  it  ?  Doan'  you  take  en  k'yart  it  off  en  dump 
it  into  a  ole  vacant  back  lot  ?  'Course.  Now,  den,  it's  my 
opinion  hit  was  jes  like  dat — dat  de  Great  Sahara  warn't 
made  at  all,  she  jes  happen1  " 

I  said  it  was  a  real  good  argument,  and  I  believed  it  was 
the  best  one  Jim  ever  made.  Tom  he  said  the  same,  but 
said  the  trouble  about  arguments  is,  they  ain't  nothing  but 
theories,  after  all,  and  theories  don't  prove  nothing,  they  only 


give  you  a  place  to  rest  on,  a  spell,  when  you  are  tuckered 
out  butting  around  and  around  trying  to  find  out  something 
there  ain't  no  way  to  find  out.  And  he  says — 

"  There's  another  trouble  about  theories :  there's  always 
a  hole  in  them  somewheres,  sure,  if  you  look  close  enough. 
It's  just  so  with  this  one  of  Jim's.  Look  what  billions  and 
billions  of  stars  there  is.  How  does  it  come  that  there  was 
just  exactly  enough  star-stuff,  and  none  left  over  ?  How 
does  it  come  there  ain't  no  sand-pile  up  there  ?" 

But  Jim  was  fixed  for  him  and  says — 

"  What's  de  Milky  Way  ? — dat's  what  /  wants  to  know. 
What's  de  Milky  Way  ?  Answer  me  dat !" 

In  my  opinion  it  was  just  a  sockdologer.  It's  only  an 
opinion,  it's  only  my  opinion  and  others  may  think  different; 
but  I  said  it  then  and  I  stand  to  it  now — it  was  a  sock 
dologer.  And  moreover,  besides,  it  landed  Tom  Sawyer. 
He  couldn't  say  a  word.  He  had  that  stunned  look  of  a 
person  that's  been  shot  in  the  back  with  a  kag  of  nails. 
All  he  said  was,  as  for  people  like  me  and  Jim,  he'd  just  as 
soon  have  intellectual  intercourse  with  a  catfish.  But  any 
body  can  say  that  —  and  I  notice  they  always  do,  when 
somebody  has  fetched  them  a  lifter.  Tom  Sawyer  was  tired 
of  that  end  of  the  subject. 

So  we  got  back  to  talking  about  the  size  of  the  Desert 
again,  and  the  more  we  compared  it  with  this  and  that  and 
t'other  thing,  the  more  nobler  and  bigger  and  grander  it 
got  to  look,  right  along.  And  so,  hunting  amongst  the 
figgers,  Tom  found,  by-and-by,  that  it  was  just  the  same 
size  as  the  Empire  of  China.  Then  he  showed  us  the 
spread  the  Empire  of  China  made  on  the  map,  and  the 
room  she  took  up  in  the  world.  Well,  it  was  wonderful  to 
think  of,  and  I  says — 

"  Why,  I've  heard  talk  about  this  Desert  plenty  of  times, 
but  /never  knowed,  before,  how  important  she  was." 


72 

Then  Tom  says— 

"  Important !  Sahara  important !  That's  just  the  way 
with  some  people.  If  a  thing's  big,  it's  important.  That's 
all  the  sense  they've  got.  All  they  can  see  is  size.  Why, 
look  at  England.  It's  the  most  important  country  in  the 
world;  and  yet  you  could  put  it  in  China's  vest-pocket; 
and  not  only  that,  but  you'd  have  the  dickens's  own  time 
to  find  it  again  the  next  time  you  wanted  it.  And  look 
at  Russia.  It  spreads  all  around  and  everywhere,  and  yet 
ain't  no  more  important  in  this  world  than  Rhode  Island 
is,  and  hasn't  got  half  as  much  in  it  that's  worth-saving." 

Away  off,  now,  we  see  a  little  hill,  a-standing  up  just  on 
the  edge  of  the  world.  Tom  broke  off  his  talk,  and  reached 
for  a  glass  very  much  excited,  and  took  a  look,  and  says — 

"That's  it — it's  the  one  I've  been  looking  for,  sure.  If 
I'm  right,  it's  the  one  the  dervish  took  the  man  into  and 
showed  him  all  the  treasures." 

So  we  begun  to  gaze,  and  he  begun  to  tell  about  it  out  of 
the  Arabian  Nights. 


CHAPTER  X 
THE    TREASURE-HILL 

TOM  said  it  happened  like  this. 

A  dervish  was  stumping  it  along  through  the  Desert,  on 
foot,  one  blazing  hot  day,  and  he  had  come  a  thousand 
miles  and  was  pretty  poor,  and  hungry,  and  ornery  and 
tired,  and  along  about  where  we  are  now  he  run  across  a 
camel-driver  with  a  hundred  camels,  and  asked  him  for 
some  a'ms.  But  the  camel-driver  he  asked  to  be  excused. 
The  dervish  says — 

"  Don't  you  own  these  camels  ?" 

"Yes,  they're  mine." 

"  Are  you  in  debt  ?" 

«  Who— me  ?     No." 

"Well,  a  man  that  owns  a  hundred  camels  and  ain't 
in  debt  is  rich — and  not  only  rich,  but  very  rich.  Ain't 
it  so?" 

The  camel -driver  owned  up  that  it  was  so.  Then  the 
dervish  says — 

"God  has  made  you  rich,  and  He  has  made  me  poor. 
He  has  His  reasons,  and  they  are  wise,  blessed  be  His 
name.  But  He  has  willed  that  His  rich  shall  help  His 
poor,  and  you  have  turned  away  from  me,  your  brother,  in 
my  need,  and  He  will  remember  this,  and  you  will  lose 
by  it." 

That  made  the  camel-driver  feel  shaky,  but  all  the  same 
he  was  born  hoggish  after  money  and  didn't  like  to  let  go 


74 

a  cent ;  so  he  begun  to  whine  and  explain,  and  said  times 
was  hard,  and  although  he  had  took  a  full  freight  down  to 
Balsora  and  got  a  fat  rate  for  it,  he  couldn't  git  no  return 
freight,  and  so  he  warn't  making  no  great  things  out  of  his 
trip.  So  the  dervish  starts  along  again,  and  says — 

"  All  right,  if  you  want  to  take  the  risk ;  but  I  reckon 
you've  made  a  mistake  this  time,  and  missed  a  chance." 

Of  course  the  camel-driver  wanted  to  know  what  kind  of 
a  chance  he  had  missed,  because  maybe  there  was  money 
in  it ;  so  he  run  after  the  dervish,  and  begged  him  so  hard 
and  earnest  to  take  pity  on  him  that  at  last  the  dervish 
gave  in,  and  says — 

"  Do  you  see  that  hill  yonder  ?  Well,  in  that  hill  is  all 
the  treasures  of  the  earth,  and  I  was  looking  around  for  a 
man  with  a  particular  good  kind  heart  and  a  noble,  gener 
ous  disposition,  because  if  I  could  find  just  that  man,  I've 
got  a  kind  of  a  salve  I  could  put  on  his  eyes  and  he  could 
see  the  treasures  and  get  them  out." 

So  then  the  camel-driver  was  in  a  sweat ;  and  he  cried, 
and  begged,  and  took  on,  and  went  down  on  his  knees,  and 
said  he  was  just  that  kind  of  a  man,  and  said  he  could  fetch 
a  thousand  people  that  would  say  he  wasn't  ever  described 
so  exact  before. 

"Well,  then,"  says  the  dervish,  "all  right.  If  we  load 
the  hundred  camels,  can  I  have  half  of  them  ?" 

The  driver  was  so  glad  he  couldn't  hardly  hold  in,  and 
says — 

"  Now  you're  shouting." 

So  they  shook  hands  on  the  bargain,  and  the  dervish  got 
out  his  box  and  rubbed  the  salve  on  the  driver's  right  eye, 
and  the  hill  opened  and  he  went  in,  and  there,  sure  enough, 
was  piles  and  piles  of  gold  and  jewels  sparkling  like  all  the 
stars  in  heaven  had  fell  down. 

So  him  and  the  dervish  laid  into  it,  and  they  loaded  every 


THE   CAMEL-DRIVER    IN    THE   TREASURE-CAVE 


75 

camel  till  he  couldn't  carry  no  more  ;  then  they  said  good-by, 
and  each  of  them  started  off  with  his  fifty.  But  pretty  soon 
the  camel-driver  come  a-running  and  overtook  the  dervish 
and  says — 

"You  ain't  in  society,  you  know,  and  you  don't  really 
need  all  you've  got.  Won't  you  be  good,  and  let  me  have 
ten  of  your  camels  ?" 

"  Well,"  the  dervish  says,  "  I  don't  know  but  what  you 
say  is  reasonable  enough." 

So  he  done  it,  and  they  separated  and  the  dervish  started 
off  again  with  his  forty.  But  pretty  soon  here  comes  the 
camel-driver  bawling  after  him  again,  and  whines  and  slob 
bers  around  and  begs  another  ten  off  of  him,  saying  thirty 
camel  loads  of  treasures  was  enough  to  see  a  dervish 
through,  because  they  live  very  simple,  you  know,  and  don't 
keep  house,  but  board  around  and  give  their  note. 

But  that  warn't  the  end  yet.  That  ornery  hound  kept 
coming  and  coming  till  he  had  begged  back  all  the  camels 
and  had  the  whole  hundred.  Then  he  was  satisfied,  and 
ever  so  grateful,  and  said  he  wouldn't  ever  forgit  the  der 
vish  as  long  as  he  lived,  and  nobody  hadn't  been  so  good  to 
him  before,  and  liberal.  So  they  shook  hands  good-by, 
and  separated  and  started  off  again. 

But  do  you  know,  it  warn't  ten  minutes  till  the  camel- 
driver  was  unsatisfied  again — he  was  the  low-downest  rep- 
tyle  in  seven  counties — and  he  come  a-running  again.  And 
this  time  the  thing  he  wanted  was  to  get  the  dervish  to  rub 
some  of  the  salve  on  his  other  eye. 

"  Why  ?"  said  the  dervish. 

"  Oh,  you  know,"  says  the  driver. 

"Know  what?" 

"Well,  you  can't  fool  me,"  says  the  driver.  "You're 
trying  to  keep  back  something  from  me,  you  know  it  mighty 
well.  You  know,  I  reckon,  that  if  I  had  the  salve  on  the 


76 

other  eye  I  could  see  a  lot  more  things  that's  valuable. 
Come — please  put  it  on." 

The  dervish  says — 

"  I  wasn't  keeping  anything  back  from  you.  I  don't  mind 
telling  you  what  would  happen  if  I  put  it  on.  You'd  never 
see  again.  You'd  be  stone-blind  the  rest  of  your  days." 

But  do  you  know,  that  beat  wouldn't  believe  him.  No, 
he  begged  and  begged,  and  whined  and  cried,  till  at  last 
the  dervish  opened  his  box  and  told  him  to  put  it  on,  if  he 
wanted  to.  So  the  man  done  it,  and  sure  enough  he  was  as 
blind  as  a  bat  in  a  minute. 

Then  the  dervish  laughed  at  him  and  mocked  at  him  and 
made  fun  of  him  ;  and  says — 

"Good-by  —  a  man  that's  blind  hain't  got  no  use  for 
jewelry." 

And  he  cleared  out  with  the  hundred  camels,  and  left 
that  man  to  wander  around  poor  and  miserable  and  friend 
less  the  rest  of  his  days  in  the  Desert. 

Jim  said  he'd  bet  it  was  a  lesson  to  him. 

"Yes,"  Tom  says,  "  and  like  a  considerable  many  lessons 
a  body  gets.  They  ain't  no  account,  because  the  thing 
don't  ever  happen  the  same  way  again  —  and  can't.  The 
time  Hen  Scovil  fell  down  the  chimbly  and  crippled  his 
back  for  life,  everybody  said  it  would  be  a  lesson  to  him. 
What  kind  of  a  lesson  ?  How  was  he  going  to  use  it  ?  He 
couldn't  climb  chimblies  no  more,  and  he  hadn't  no  more 
backs  to  break." 

"  All  de  same,  Mars  Tom,  dey  is  sich  a  thing  as  learnin' 
by  expe'ence.  De  Good  Book  say  de  burnt  chile  shun  de 
fire." 

"  Well,  I  ain't  denying  that  a  thing's  a  lesson  if  it's  a 
thing  that  can  happen  twice  just  the  same  way.  There's 
lots  of  such  things,  and  they  educate  a  person,  that's  what 
Uncle  Abner  always  said  ;  but  there's  forty  million  lots  of 


77 

the  other  kind—the  kind  that  don't  happen  the  same  way 
twice — and  they  ain't  no  real  use,  they  ain't  no  more  in 
structive  than  the  small-pox.  When  you've  got  it,  it  ain't 
no  good  to  find  out  you  ought  to  been  vaccinated,  and  it 
ain't  no  good  to  git  vaccinated  afterwards,  because  the 
small -pox  don't  come  but  once.  But  on  the  other  hand 
Uncle  Abner  said  that  the  person  that  had  took  a  bull 
by  the  tail  once  had  learnt  sixty  or  seventy  times  as 
much  as  a  person  that  hadn't,  and  said  a  person  that 
started  in  to  carry  a  cat  home  by  the  tail  was  gitting  knowl 
edge  that  was  always  going  to  be  useful  to  him,  and  warn't 
ever  going  to  grow  dim  or  doubtful.  But  I  can  tell  you, 
Jim,  Uncle  Abner  was  down  on  them  people  that's  all  the 
time  trying  to  dig  a  lesson  out  of  everything  that  happens, 
no  matter  whether — " 

But  Jim  was  asleep.  Tom  looked  kind  of  ashamed,  be 
cause  you  know  a  person  always  feels  bad  when  he  is  talk 
ing  uncommon  fine  and  thinks  the  other  person  is  admiring, 
and  that  other  person  goes  to  sleep  that  way.  Of  course 
he  oughtn't  to  go  to  sleep,  because  it's  shabby;  but  the 
finer  a  person  talks  the  certainer  it  is  to  make  you  sleep, 
and  so  when  you  come  to  look  at  it  it  ain't  nobody's  fault 
in  particular ;  both  of  them's  to  blame. 

Jim  begun  to  snore — soft  and  blubbery  at  first,  then  a 
long  rasp,  then  a  stronger  one,  then  a  half  a  dozen  horrible 
ones  like  the  last  water  sucking  down  the  plug-hole  of  a  bath 
tub,  then  the  same  with  more  power  to  it,  and  some  big 
coughs  and  snorts  flung  in,  the  way  a  cow  does  that  is  chok 
ing  to  death  ;  and  when  the  person  has  got  to  that  point  he 
is  at  his  level  best,  and  can  wake  up  a  man  that  is  in  the  next 
block  with  a  dipperful  of  loddanum  in  him,  but  can't  wake 
himself  up  although  all  that  awful  noise  of  his'n  ain't  but 
three  inches  from  his  own  ears.  And  that  is  the  curiosest 
thing  in  the  world,  seems  to  me.  But  you  rake  a  match  to 


78 

light  the  candle,  and  that  little  bit  of  a  noise  will  fetch  him. 
I  wish  Iknowed  what  was  the  reason  of  that,  but  there  don't 
seem  to  be  no  way  to  find  out.  Now  there  was  Jim  alarm 
ing  the  whole  Desert,  and  yanking  the  animals  out,  for  miles 
and  miles  around,  to  see  what  in  the  nation  was  going  on 
up  there  ;  there  warn't  nobody  nor  nothing  that  was  as  close 
to  the  noise  as  he  was,  and  yet  he  was  the  only  cretur  that 
wasn't  disturbed  by  it.  We  yelled  at  him  and  whooped  at 
him,  it  never  done  no  good ;  but  the  first  time  there  come  a 
little  wee  noise  that  wasn't  of  a  usual  kind  it  woke  him  up. 
No,  sir,  I've  thought  it  all  over,  and  so  has  Tom,  and  there 
ain't  no  way  to  find  out  why  a  snorer  can't  hear  himself  snore. 

Jim  said  he  hadn't  been  asleep;  he  just  shut  his  eyes  so 
he  could  listen  better. 

Tom  said  nobody  warn't  accusing  him. 

That  made  him  look  like  he  wished  he  hadn't  said  any 
thing.  And  he  wanted  to  git  away  from  the  subject,  I 
reckon,  because  he  begun  to  abuse  the  camel-driver,  just 
the  way  a  person  does  when  he  has  got  catched  in  some 
thing  and  wants  to  take  it  out  of  somebody  else.  He  let 
into  the  camel -driver  the  hardest  he  knowed  how,  and  I 
had  to  agree  with  him  ;  and  he  praised  up  the  dervish  the 
highest  he  could,  and  I  had  to  agree  with  him  there,  too. 
But  Tom  says — 

"  I  ain't  so  sure.  You  call  that  dervish  so  dreadful  lib 
eral  and  good  and  unselfish,  but  I  don't  quite  see  it.  He 
didn't  hunt  up  another  poor  dervish,  did  he  ?  No,  he 
didn't.  If  he  was  so  unselfish,  why  didn't  he  go  in  there 
himself  and  take  a  pocketful  of  jewels  and  go  along  and 
be  satisfied  ?  No,  sir,  the  person  he  was  hunting  for  was  a 
man  with  a  hundred  camels.  He  wanted  to  get  away  with 
all  the  treasure  he  could." 

"Why,  Mars  Tom,  he  was  willin'  to  divide,  fair  and 
square ;  he  only  struck  for  fifty  camels." 


79 

"  Because  he  knowed  how  he  was  going  to  get  all  of  them 
by-and-by." 

"  Mars  Tom,  he  tole  de  man  de  truck  would  make  him 
Wine." 

"  Yes,  because  he  knowed  the  man's  character.  It  was 
just  the  kind  of  a  man  he  was  hunting  for— a  man  that 
never  believes  in  anybody's  word  or  anybody's  honorable- 
ness,  because  he  ain't  got  none  of  his  own.  I  reckon  there's 
lots  of  people  like  that  dervish.  They  swindle,  right  and 
left,  but  they  always  make  the  other  person  seem  to  swindle 
himself.  They  keep  inside  of  the  letter  of  the  law  all  the 
time,  and  there  ain't  no  way  to  git  hold  of  them.  They  don't 
put  the  salve  on — oh  no,  that  would  be  sin ;  but  they  know 
how  to  fool  you  into  putting  it  on,  then  it's  you  that  blinds 
yourself.  I  reckon  the  dervish  and  the  camel -driver  was 
just  a  pair — a  fine,  smart,  brainy  rascal,  and  a  dull,  coarse, 
ignorant  one,  but  both  of  them  rascals,  just  the  same." 

"  Mars  Tom,  does  you  reckon  dey's  any  o'  dat  kind  o' 
salve  in  de  worl'  now  ?" 

"  Yes,  Uncle  Abner  says  there  is.  He  says  they've  got  it 
in  New  York,  and  they  put  it  on  country  people's  eyes  and 
show  them  all  the  railroads  in  the  world,  and  they  go  in  and 
git  them,  and  then  when  they  rub  the  salve  on  the  other  eye 
the  other  man  bids  them  good-by  and  goes  off  with  their 
railroads.  Here's  the  treasure-hill,  now.  Lower  away  !" 

We  landed,  but  it  warn't  as  interesting  as  I  thought  it 
was  going  to  be,  because  we  couldn't  find  the  place  where 
they  went  in  to  git  the  treasure.  Still,  it  was  plenty  inter 
esting  enough,  just  to  see  the  mere  hill  itself  where  such  a 
wonderful  thing  happened.  Jim  said  he  wouldn't  'a'  missed 
it  for  three  dollars,  and  I  felt  the  same  way. 

And  to  me  and  Jim,  as  wonderful  a  thing  as  any  was  the 
way  Tom  could  come  into  a  strange  big  country  like  this 
and  go  straight  and  find  a  little  hump  like  that  and  tell  it  in 


8o 


a  minute  from  a  million  other  humps  that  was  almost  just 
like  it,  and  nothing  to  help  him  but  only  his  own  learning 
and  his  own  natural  smartness.  We  talked  and  talked  it 
over  together,  but  couldn't  make  out  how  he  done  it.  He 
had  the  best  head  on  him  I  ever  see ;  and  all  he  lacked  was 
age,  to  make  a  name  for  himself  equal  to  Captain  Kidd  or 
George  Washington.  I  bet  you  it  would  'a'  crowded  either 
of  them  to  find  that  hill,  with  all  their  gifts,  but  it  warn't 
nothing  to  Tom  Sawyer ;  he  went  across  Sahara  and  put  his 
finger  on  it  as  easy  as  you  could  pick  a  nigger  out  of  a  bunch 
of  angels. 

We  found  a  pond  of  salt  water  close  by  and  scraped  up 
a  raft  of  salt  around  the  edges,  and  loaded  up  the  lion's  skin 
and  the  tiger's  so  as  they  would  keep  till  Jim  could  tan 
them. 


CHAPTER   XI 
THE    SAND-STORM 

WE  went  a-fooling  along  for  a  day  or  two,  and  then  just 
as  the  full  moon  was  touching  the  ground  on  the  other  side 
of  the  desert,  we  see  a  string  of  little  black  riggers  moving 
across  its  big  silver  face.  You  could  see  them  as  plain  as 
if  they  was  painted  on  the  moon  with  ink.  It  was  another 
caravan.  We  cooled  down  our  speed  and  tagged  along 
after  it,  just  to  have  company,  though  it  warn't  going  our 
way.  It  was  a  rattler,  that  caravan,  and  a  most  bully  sight 
to  look  at,  next  morning  when  the  sun  come  a-streaming 
across  the  desert  and  flung  the  long  shadders  of  the  camels 
on  the  gold  sand  like  a  thousand  grand-daddy-longlegses 
marching  in  procession.  We  never  went  very  near  it,  be 
cause  we  knowed  better,  now,  than  to  act  like  that  and 
scare  people's  camels  and  break  up  their  caravans.  It  was 
the  gayest  outfit  you  ever  see,  for  rich  clothes  and  nobby 
style.  Some  of  the  chiefs  rode  on  dromedaries,  the  first  we 
ever  see,  and  very  tall,  and  they  go  plunging  along  like  they 
was  on  stilts,  and  they  rock  the  man  that  is  on  them  pretty 
violent  and  churn  up  his  dinner  considerable,  I  bet  you,  but 
they  make  noble  good  time  and  a  camel  ain't  nowheres  with 
them  for  speed. 

The  caravan  camped,  during  the  middle  part  of  the  day, 
and  then  started  again  about  the  middle  of  the  afternoon. 
Before  long  the  sun  begun  to  look  very  curious.  First  it 
kind  of  turned  to  brass,  and  then  to  copper,  and  after  that 

6TS 


82 


it  begun  to  look  like  a  blood-red  ball,  and  the  air  got  hot 
and  close,  and  pretty  soon  all  the  sky  in  the  west  darkened 
up  and  looked  thick  and  foggy,  but  fiery  and  dreadful — like 
it  looks  through  a  piece  of  red  glass,  you  know.  We 
looked  down  and  see  a  big  confusion  going  on  in  the 
caravan,  and  a  rushing  every  which  way  like  they  was 
scared;  and  then  they  all  flopped  down  flat  in  the  sand 
and  laid  there  perfectly  still. 

Pretty  soon  we  see  something  coming  that  stood  up 
like  an  amazing  wide  wall,  and  reached  from  the  desert 
up  into  the  sky  and  hid  the  sun,  and  it  was  coming  like 
the  nation,  too.  Then  a  little  faint  breeze  struck  us, 
and  then  it  come  harder,  and  grains  of  sand  begun  to 
sift  against  our  faces  and  sting  like  fire,  and  Tom  sung 
out — 

"  It's  a  sand-storm — turn  your  backs  to  it !" 

We  done  it;  and  in  another  minute  it  was  blowing  a  gale, 
and  the  sand  beat  against  us  by  the  shovelful,  and  the  air 
was  so  thick  with  it  we  couldn't  see  a  thing.  In  five 
minutes  the  boat  was  level  full,  and  we  was  setting  on  the 
lockers  buried  up  to  the  chin  in  sand,  and  only  our  heads 
out  and  could  hardly  breathe. 

Then  the  storm  thinned,  and  we  see  that  monstrous  wall 
go  a-sailing  off  across  the  desert,  awful  to  look  at,  I  tell  you. 
We  dug  ourselves  out  and  looked  down,  and  where  the 
caravan  was  before  there  wasn't  anything  but  just  the  sand 
ocean  now,  and  all  still  and  quiet.  All  them  people  and 
camels  was  smothered  and  dead  and  buried — buried  under 
ten  foot  of  sand,  we  reckoned,  and  Tom  allowed  it  might 
be  years  before  the  wind  uncovered  them,  and  all  that  time 
their  friends  wouldn't  ever  know  what  become  of  that  cara 
van.  Tom  said — 

"  JNow  we  know  what  it  was  that  happened  to  the  people 
we  got  the  swords  and  pistols  from." 


\  \ 


IN   THE    SAND-STORM 


83 

Yes,  sir,  that  was  just  it.  It  was  as  plain  as  day  now. 
They  got  buried  in  a  sand-storm,  and  the  wild  animals 
couldn't  get  at  them,  and  the  wind  never  uncovered  them 
again  until  they  was  dried  to  leather  and  warn't  fit  to  eat. 
It  seemed  to  me  we  had  felt  as  sorry  for  them  poor  people 
as  a  person  could  for  anybody,  and  as  mournful,  too,  but 
we  was  mistaken  ;  this  last  caravan's  death  went  harder 
with  us,  a  good  deal  harder.  You  see,  the  others  was  total 
strangers,  and  we  never  got  to  feeling  acquainted  with  them 
at  all,  except,  maybe,  a  little  with  the  man  that  was  watch 
ing  the  girl,  but  it  was  different  with  this  last  caravan.  We 
was  huvvering  around  them  a  whole  night  and  'most  a 
whole  day,  and  had  got  to  feeling  real  friendly  with  them, 
and  acquainted.  I  have  found  out  that  there  ain't  no  surer 
way  to  find  out  whether  you  like  people  or  hate  them  than 
to  travel  with  them.  Just  so  with  these.  We  kind  of  liked 
them  from  the  start,  and  travelling  with  them  put  on  the 
finisher.  The  longer  we  travelled  with  them,  and  the  more 
we  got  used  to  their  ways,  the  better  and  better  we  liked 
them,  and  the  gladder  and  gladder  we  was  that  we  run 
across  them.  We  had  come  to  know  some  of  them  so  well 
that  we  called  them  by  name  when  we  was  talking  about 
them,  and  soon  got  so  familiar  and  sociable  that  we  even 
dropped  the  Miss  and  Mister  and  just  used  their  plain 
names  without  any  handle,  and  it  did  not  seem  unpolite, 
but  just  the  right  thing.  Of  course  it  wasn't  their  own 
names,  but  names  we  give  them.  There  was  Mr.  Elexan- 
der  Robinson  and  Miss  Adaline  Robinson,  and  Col.  Jacob 
McDougal  and  Miss  Harryet  McDougal,  and  Judge  Jere 
miah  Butler  and  young  Bushrod  Butler,  and  these  was  big 
chiefs,  mostly,  that  wore  splendid  great  turbans  and  sim- 
meters,  and  dressed  like  the  Grand  Mogul,  and  their  fami 
lies.  But  as  soon  as  we  come  to  know  them  good,  and  like 
them  very  much,  it  warn't  Mister,  nor  Judge,  nor  nothing, 


84 

any  more,  but  only  Elleck,  and  Addy,  and  Jake,  and  Hattie, 
and  Jerry,  and  Buck,  and  so  on. 

And  you  know,  the  more  you  join  in  with  people  in  their 
joys  and  their  sorrows,  the  more  nearer  and  dearer  they 
come  to  be  to  you.  Now  we  warn't  cold  and  indifferent, 
the  way  most  travellers  is,  we  was  right  down  friendly  and 
sociable,  and  took  a  chance  in  everything  that  was  going, 
and  the  caravan  could  depend  on  us  to  be  on  hand  every 
time,  it  didn't  make  no  difference  what  it  was. 

When  they  camped,  we  camped  right  over  them,  ten  or 
twelve  hundred  feet  up  in  the  air.  When  they  et  a  meal, 
we  et  ourn,  and  it  made  it  ever  so  much  home-liker  to  have 
their  company.  When  they  had  a  wedding,  that  night,  and 
Buck  and  Addy  got  married,  we  got  ourselves  up  in  the 
very  starchiest  of  the  professor's  duds  for  the  blow-out,  and 
when  they  danced  we  jined  in  and  shook  a  foot  up  there. 

But  it  is  sorrow  and  trouble  that  brings  you  the  nearest, 
and  it  was  a  funeral  that  done  it  with  us.  It  was  next 
morning,  just  in  the  still  dawn.  We  didn't  know  the 
diseased,  and  he  warn't  in  our  set,  but  that  never  made 
no  difference ;  he  belonged  to  the  caravan,  and  that  was 
enough,  and  there  warn't  no  more  sincerer  tears  shed  over 
him  than  the  ones  we  dripped  on  him  from  up  there  eleven 
hundred  foot  on  high. 

Yes,  parting  with  this  caravan  was  much  more  bitterer 
than  it  was  to  part  with  them  others,  which  was  compara 
tive  strangers,  and  been  dead  so  long,  anyway.  We  had 
knowed  these  in  their  lives,  and  was  fond  of  them,  too,  and 
now  to  have  death  snatch  them  from  right  before  our  faces 
whilst  we  was  looking,  and  leave  us  so  lonesome  and 
friendless  in  the  middle  of  that  big  desert,  it  did  hurt  so, 
and  we  wished  we  mightn't  ever  make  any  more  friends  on 
that  voyage  if  we  was  going  to  lose  them  again  like  that. 

We  couldn't  keep  from  talking  about  them,  and  they 


\VIIKM    THEY    DANCED    WE   JOINED    IN    AND    SHOOK    A    FOOT    UP   THERE1 


85 

was  all  the  time  coming  up  in  our  memory,  and  looking 
just  the  way  they  looked  when  we  was  all  alive  and  happy 
together.  We  could  see  the  line  marching,  and  the  shiny 
spearheads  a-winking  in  the  sun ;  we  could  see  the  drome 
daries  lumbering  along;  we  could  see  the  wedding  and  the 
funeral;  and  more  oftener  than  anything  else  we  could  see 
them  praying,  because  they  don't  allow  nothing  to  prevent 
that ;  whenever  the  call  come,  several  times  a  day,  they 
would  stop  right  there,  and  stand  up  and  face  to  the  east, 
and  lift  back  their  heads,  and  spread  out  their  arms  and 
begin,  and  four  or  five  times  they  would  go  down  on  their 
knees,  and  then  fall  forwards  and  touch  their  forehead  to 
the  ground. 

Well,  it  warn't  good  to  go  on  talking  about  them,  lovely  as 
they  was  in  their  life,  and  dear  to  us  in  their  life  and  death 
both,  because  it  didn't  do  no  good,  and  made  us  too  down 
hearted.  Jim  allowed  he  was  going  to  live  as  good  a  life 
as  he  could,  so  he  could  see  them  again  in  a  better  world ; 
and  Tom  kept  still  and  didn't  tell  him  they  was  only 
Mohammedans;  it  warn't  no  use  to  disappoint  him,  he  was 
feeling  bad  enough  just  as  it  was. 

When  we  woke  up  next  morning  we  was  feeling  a  little 
cheerfuller,  and  had  had  a  most  powerful  good  sleep,  be 
cause  sand  is  the  comfortablest  bed  there  is,  and  I  don't 
see  why  people  that  can  afford  it  don't  have  it  more.  And 
it's  terrible  good  ballast,  too ;  I  never  see  the  balloon  so 
steady  before. 

Tom  allowed  we  had  twenty  tons  of  it,  and  wondered 
what  we  better  do  with  it;  it  was  good  sand,  and  it  didn't 
seem  good  sense  to  throw  it  away.  Jim  says — 

"  Mars  Tom,  can't  we  tote  it  back  home  en  sell  it  ?  How 
long  '11  it  take  ?" 

"Depends  on  the  way  we  go." 

"Well,  sah,  she's  wuth  a  quarter  of  a  dollar  a  load  at 


86 


home,  en  I  reckon  we's  got  as  much  as  twenty  loads,  hain't 
we  ?  How  much  would  dat  be  ?" 

"Five  dollars." 

"By  jings,  Mars  Tom,  le's  shove  for  home  right  on  de 
spot!  Hit's  more'n  a  dollar  en  a  half  apiece,  hain't  it?" 

"Yes." 

"  Well,  ef  dat  ain't  makin'  money  de  easiest  ever  /struck  ! 
She  jes'  rained  in  —  never  cos'  us  a  lick  o'  work.  Le's 
tnosey  right  along,  Mars  Tom." 

But  Tom  was  thinking  and  ciphering  away  so  busy  and 
excited  he  never  heard  him.  Pretty  soon  he  says — 

"  Five  dollars — sho  !  Look  here,  this  sand's  worth — 
worth — why,  it's  worth  no  end  of  money." 

"  How  is  dat,  Mars  Tom  ?     Go  on,  honey,  go  on  !" 

"  Well,  the  minute  people  knows  it's  genuwyne  sand 
from  the  genuwyne  Desert  of  Sahara,  they'll  just  be  in  a 
perfect  state  of  mind  to  git  hold  of  some  of  it  to  keep  on 
the  what-not  in  a  vial  with  a  label  on  it  for  a  curiosity.  All 
We  got  to  do,  is,  to  put  it  up  in  vials  and  float  around  all 
over  the  United  States  and  peddle  them  out  at  ten  cents 
apiece.  We've  got  all  of  ten  thousand  dollars'  worth  of 
sand  in  this  boat." 

Me  and  Jim  went  all  to  pieces  with  joy,  and  begun  to 
shout  whoopjamboreehoo,  and  Tom  says — 

"  And  we  can  keep  on  coming  back  and  fetching  sand, 
and  coming  back  and  fetching  more  sand,  and  just  keep 
it  a-going  till  we've  carted  this  whole  Desert  over  there  and 
sold  it  out ;  and  there  ain't  ever  going  to  be  any  opposition, 
either,  because  we'll  take  out  a  patent." 

"My  goodness,"  I  says,  "we'll  be  as  rich  as  Creosote, 
won't  we,  Tom  ?" 

"Yes  —  Creesus,  you  mean.  Why,  that  dervish  was 
hunting  in  that  little  hill  for  the  treasures  of  the  earth, 
and  didn't  know  he  was  walking  over  the  real  ones  for  a 


87 

thousand  miles.  He  was  blinder  than  he  made  the 
driver." 

*'  Mars  Tom,  how  much  is  we  gwyne  to  be  worth  ?" 

"  Well,  I  don't  know,  yet.  It's  got  to  be  ciphered,  and  it 
ain't  the  easiest  job  to  do,  either,  because  it's  over  four 
million  square  miles  of  sand  at  ten  cents  a  vial." 

Jim  was  awful  excited,  but  this  faded  it  out  considerable, 
and  he  shook  his  head  and  says — 

"  Mars  Tom,  we  can't  'ford  all  dem  vials  —  a  king 
couldn't.  We  better  not  try  to  take  de  whole  Desert,  Mars 
Tom,  de  vials  gwyne  to  bust  us,  sho'." 

Tom's  excitement  died  out,  too,  now,  and  I  reckoned 
it  was  on  account  of  the  vials,  but  it  wasn't.  He  set 
there  thinking,  and  got  bluer  and  bluer,  and  at  last  he 
says — 

"  Boys,  it  won't  work  ;  we  got  to  give  it  up." 

"  Why,  Tom  ?" 

"  On  account  of  the  duties." 

I  couldn't  make  nothing  out  of  that,  neither  could  Jim. 
I  says — 

"  What  is  our  duty,  Tom  ?  Because  if  we  can't  git  around 
it,  why  can't  we  just  do  it  ?  People  often  has  to." 

But  he  says — 

"  Oh,  it  ain't  that  kind  of  duty.  The  kind  I  mean  is 
a  tax.  Whenever  you  strike  a  frontier— that's  the  border 
of  a  country,  you  know — you  find  a  custom-house  there,  and 
the  gov'ment  officers  comes  and  rummages  amongst  your 
things  and  charges  a  big  tax,  which  they  call  a  duty  be 
cause  it's  their  duty  to  bust  you  if  they  can,  and  if  you 
don't  pay  the  duty  they'll  hog  your  sand.  They  call  it  con 
fiscating,  but  that  don't  deceive  nobody,  it's  just  hogging, 
and  that's  all  it  is.  Now  if  we  try  to  carry  this  sand  home 
the  way  we're  pointed  now,  we  got  to  climb  fences  till  we 
git  tired— just  frontier  after  frontier — Egypt,  Arabia,  Hin- 


88 


dostan,  and  so  on,  and  they'll  all  whack  on  a  duty,  and  so 
you  see,  easy  enough,  we  cadi  go  that  road." 

"  Why,  Tom,"  I  says,  "  we  can  sail  right  over  their  old 
frontiers  ;  how  are  they  going  to  stop  us  ?" 

He  looked  sorrowful  at  me,  and  says,  very  grave — 

"  Huck  Finn,  do  you  think  that  would  be  honest  ?" 

I  hate  them  kind  of  interruptions.  I  never  said  nothing, 
and  he  went  on — 

"  Well,  we're  shut  off  the  other  way,  too.  If  we  go  back 
the  way  we've  come,  there's  the  New  York  custom-house, 
and  that  is  worse  than  all  of  them  others  put  together,  on 
account  of  the  kind  of  cargo  we've  got." 

"  Why  ?" 

"  Well,  they  can't  raise  Sahara  sand  in  America,  of 
course,  and  when  they  can't  raise  a  thing  there,  the  duty  is 
fourteen  hundred  thousand  per  cent,  on  it  if  you  try  to  fetch 
it  in  from  where  they  do  raise  it." 

"  There  ain't  no  sense  in  that,  Tom  Sawyer." 

"  Who  said  there  was  ?  WThat  do  you  talk  to  me  like 
that  for,  Huck  Finn  ?  You  wait  till  I  say  a  thing's  got 
sense  in  it  before  you  go  to  accusing  me  of  saying  it." 

"  All  right,  consider  me  crying  about  it,  and  sorry. 
Go  on." 

Jim  says — 

"  Mars  Tom,  do  dey  jam  dat  duty  onto  everything  we 
can't  raise  in  America,  en  don't  make  no  'stinction  'twix' 
anything  ?" 

"  Yes,  that's  what  they  do." 

"  Mars  Tom,  ain't  de  blessin'  o'  de  Lord  de  mos'  valua 
ble  thing  dey  is  ?" 

"  Yes,  it  is." 

"  Don't  de  preacher  stan'  up  in  de  pulpit  en  call  it  down 
on  de  people  ?" 

"  Yes." 


89 


"  Whah  do  it  come  from  ?" 

"  From  heaven." 

"Yassir!  you's  jes'  right,  'deed  you  is,  honey — it  come 
from  heaven,  en  dat's  a  foreign  country.  Now  den  !  do  dey 
put  a  tax  on  dat  blessin'  ?" 

"  No,  they  don't." 

"  Course  dey  don't ;  en  so  it  stan'  to  reason  dat  you's 
mistaken,  Mars  Tom.  Dey  wouldn't  put  de  tax  on  po' 
truck  like  san',  dat  everybody  ain't  'bleeged  to  have,  en 
leave  if  ofFn  de  bes'  thing  dey  is,  which  nobody  can't  git 
along  widout." 

Tom  Sawyer  was  stumped  ;  he  see  Jim  had  got  him  where 
he  couldn't  budge.  He  tried  to  wiggle  out  by  saying  they 
had  forgot  to  put  on  that  tax,  but  they'd  be  sure  to  re 
member  about  it,  next  session  of  Congress,  and  then  they'd 
put  it  on,  but  that  was  a  poor  lame  come-off,  and  he  knowed 
it.  He  said  there  warn't  nothing  foreign  that  warn't  taxed 
but  just  that  one,  and  so  they  couldn't  be  consistent  with 
out  taxing  it,  and  to  be  consistent  was  the  first  law  of 
politics.  So  he  stuck  to  it  that  they'd  left  it  out  unin 
tentional  and  would  be  certain  to  do  their  best  to  fix  it 
before  they  got  caught  and  laughed  at. 

But  I  didn't  feel  no  more  interest  in  such  things,  as  long 
as  we  couldn't  git  our  sand  through,  and  it  made  me  low- 
spirited,  and  Jim  the  same.  Tom  he  tried  to  cheer  us  up 
by  saying  he  would  think  up  another  speculation  for  us  that 
would  be  just  as  good  as  this  one  and  better,  but  it  didn't 
do  no  good,  we  didn't  believe  there  was  any  as  big  as  this. 
It  was  mighty  hard ;  such  a  little  while  ago  we  was  so  rich,  and 
could  'a'  bought  a  country  and  started  a  kingdom  and  been 
celebrated  and  happy,  and  now  we  was  so  poor  and  ornery 
again,  and  had  our  sand  left  on  our  hands.  The  sand  was 
looking  so  lovely,  before,  just  like  gold  and  di'monds,  and 
the  feel  of  it  was  so  soft  and  so  silky  and  nice,  but  now  I 


9Q 

couldn't  bear  the  sight  of  it,  it  made  me  sick  to  look  at  it, 
and  I  knowed  I  wouldn't  ever  feel  comfortable  again  till  we 
got  shut  of  it,  and  I  didn't  have  it  there  no  more  to  remind 
us  of  what  we  had  been  and  what  we  had  got  degraded 
down  to.  The  others  was  feeling  the  same  way  about  it 
that  I  was.  I  knowed  it,  because  they  cheered  up  so,  the 
minute  I  says  le's  throw  this  truck  overboard. 

Well,  it  was  going  to  be  work,  you  know,  and  pretty  solid 
work,  too ;  so  Tom  he  divided  it  up  according  to  fairness 
and  strength.  He  said  me  and  him  would  clear  out  a  fifth 
apiece,  of  the  sand,  and  Jim  three-fifths.  Jim  he  didn't 
quite  like  that  arrangement.  He  says — 

"Course  I's  de  stronges',  en  I's  willin'  to  do  a  share  ac- 
cordin',  but  by  jings  you's  kinder  pilin1  it  onto  ole  Jim,  Mars 
Tom,  hain't  you  ?" 

"  Well,  I  didn't  think  so,  Jim,  but  you  try  your  hand  at 
fixing  it,  and  let's  see." 

So  Jim  he  reckoned  it  wouldn't  be  no  more  than  fair  if 
me  and  Tom  done  a  tenth  apiece.  Tom  he  turned  his  back 
to  git  room  and  be  private,  and  then  he  smole  a  smile  that 
spread  around  and  covered  the  whole  Sahara  to  the  west 
ward,  back  to  the  Atlantic  edge  of  it  where  we  come  from. 
Then  he  turned  around  again  and  said  it  was  a  good  enough 
arrangement,  and  we  was  satisfied  if  Jim  was.  Jim  said  he 
was. 

So  then  Tom  measured  off  our  two-tenths  in  the  bow  and 
left  the  rest  for  Jim,  and  it  surprised  Jim  a  good  deal  to  see 
how  much  difference  there  was  and  what  a  raging  lot  of 
sand  his  share  come  to,  and  said  he  was  powerful  glad,  now, 
that  he  had  spoke  up  in  time  and  got  the  first  arrangement 
altered,  for  he  said  that  even  the  way  it  was  now,  there  was 
more  sand  than  enjoyment  in  his  end  of  the  contract,  he 
believed. 

Then  we  laid  into  it.     It  was  mighty  hot  work,  and  tough ; 


so  hot  we  had  to  move  up  into  cooler  weather  or  we  couldn't 
'a'  stood  it.  Me  and  Tom  took  turn  about,  and  one  worked 
while  t'  other  rested,  but  there  warn't  nobody  to  spell  poor 
old  Jim,  and  he  made  all  that  part  of  Africa  damp,  he 
sweated  so.  We  couldn't  work  good,  we  was  so  full  of  laugh, 
and  Jim  he  kept  fretting  and  wanting  to  know  what  tickled 
us  so,  and  we  had  to  keep  making  up  things  to  account  for 
it,  and  they  was  pretty  poor  inventions,  but  they  done  well 
enough,  Jim  didn't  see  through  them.  At  last  when  we  got 
done  we  was  'most  dead,  but  not  with  work  but  with  laugh 
ing.  By-and-by  Jim  was  'most  dead  too,  but  it  was  with 
work ;  then  we  took  turns  and  spelled  him,  and  he  was  as 
thankful  as  he  could  be,  and  would  set  on  the  gunnel  and 
swab  the  sweat,  and  heave  and  pant,  and  say  how  good  we 
was  to  a  poor  old  nigger,  and  he  wouldn't  ever  forgit  us. 
He  was  always  the  gratefulest  nigger  I  ever  see,  for  any 
little  thing  you  done  for  him.  He  was  only  nigger  outside ; 
inside  he  was  as  white  as  you  be. 


CHAPTER   XII 
JIM    STANDING    SIEGE 

THE  next  few  meals  was  pretty  sandy,  but  that  don't 
make  no  difference  when  you  are  hungry  ;  and  when  you 
ain't  it  ain't  no  satisfaction  to  eat,  anyway,  and  so  a  little 
grit  in  the  meat  ain't  no  particular  drawback,  as  far  as  I 
can  see. 

Then  we  struck  the  east  end  of  the  Desert  at  last,  sailing 
on  a  northeast  course.  Away  off  on  the  edge  of  the  sand, 
in  a  soft  pinky  light,  we  see  three  little  sharp  roofs  like 
tents,  and  Tom  says — 

"  It's  the  pyramids  of  Egypt." 

It  made  my  heart  fairly  jump.  You  see,  I  had  seen  a  many 
and  a  many  a  picture  of  them,  and  heard  tell  about  them  a 
hundred  times,  and  yet  to  come  on  them  all  of  a  sudden, 
that  way,  and  find  they  was  real,  'stead  of  imaginations, 
'most  knocked  the  breath  out  of  me  with  surprise.  It's  a 
curious  thing,  that  the  more  you  hear  about  a  grand  and 
big  and  bully  thing  or  person,  the  more  it  kind  of  dreamies 
out,  as  you  may  say,  and  gets  to  be  a  big  dim  wavery  figger 
made  out  of  moonshine  and  nothing  solid  to  it.  It's  just 
so  with  George  Washington,  and  the  same  with  them  pyra 
mids. 

And  moreover  besides,  the  thing  they  always  said  about 
them  seemed  to  me  to  be  stretchers.  There  was  a  feller 
come  to  the  Sunday-school,  once,  and  had  a  picture  of 
them,  and  made  a  speech,  and  said  the  biggest  pyramid 


93 

covered  thirteen  acres,  and  was  most  five  hundred  foot 
high,  just  a  steep  mountain,  all  built  out  of  hunks  of  stone 
as  big  as  a  bureau,  and  laid  up  in  perfectly  regular  layers, 
like  stair-steps.  Thirteen  acres,  you  see,  for  just  one  build 
ing;  it's  a  farm.  If  it  hadn't  been  in  Sunday-school,  I 
would  'a'  judged  it  was  a  lie ;  and  outside  I  was  certain  of 
it.  And  he  said  there  was  a  hole  in  the  pyramid,  and  you 
could  go  in  there  with  candles,  and  go  ever  so  far  up  a  long 
slanting  tunnel,  and  come  to  a  large  room  in  the  stomach 
of  that  stone  mountain,  and  there  you  would  find  a  big  stone 
chest  with  a  king  in  it,  four  thousand  years  old.  I  said  to 
myself,  then,  if  that  ain't  a  lie  I  will  eat  that  king  if  they 
will  fetch  him,  for  even  Methusalem  warn't  that  old,  and 
nobody  claims  it. 

As  we  come  a  little  nearer  we  see  the  yaller  sand  come 
to  an  end  in  a  long  straight  edge  like  a  blanket,  and  onto  it 
was  joined,  edge  to  edge,  a  wide  country  of  bright  green, 
with  a  snaky  stripe  crooking  through  it,  and  Tom  said  it 
was  the  Nile.  It  made  my  heart  jump  again,  for  the  Nile 
was  another  thing  that  wasn't  real  to  me.  Now  I  can  tell 
you  one  thing  which  is  dead  certain  :  if  you  will  fool  along 
over  three  thousand  miles  of  yaller  sand,  all  glimmering 
with  heat  so  that  it  makes  your  eyes  water  to  look  at  it,  and 
you've  been  a  considerable  part  of  a  week  doing  it,  the 
green  country  will  look  so  like  home  and  heaven  to  you 
that  it  will  make  your  eyes  water  again. 

It  was  just  so  with  me,  and  the  same  with  Jim. 

And  when  Jim  got  so  he  could  believe  it  was  the  land  of 
Egypt  he  was  looking  at,  he  wouldn't  enter  it  standing  up, 
but  got  down  on  his  knees  and  took  off  his  hat,  because  he 
said  it  wasn't  fitten'  for  a  humble  poor  nigger  to  come  any 
other  way  where  such  men  had  been  as  Moses  and  Joseph 
and  Pharaoh  and  the  other  prophets.  He  was  a  Presby 
terian,  and  had  a  most  deep  respect  for  Mosae  which  was  a 


94 

Presbyterian  too,  he  said.  He  was  all  stirred  up,  and 
says — 

"  Hit's  de  Ian'  of  Egypt,  de  Ian'  of  Egypt,  en  I's  'lowed  to 
look  at  it  wid  my  own  eyes  !  En  dah's  de  river  dat  was 
turn'  to  blood,  en  I's  looking  at  de  very  same  groun'  whah  de 
plagues  was,  en  de  lice,  en  de  frogs,  en  de  locus',  en  de  hail, 
en  whah  dey  marked  de  door-pos',  en  de  angel  o'  de  Lord 
come  by  in  de  darkness  o'  de  night  en  slew  de  fust-born  in 
all  de  Ian'  o'  Egypt.  Ole  Jim  ain't  worthy  to  see  dis  day !" 

And  then  he  just  broke  down  and  cried,  he  was  so  thank 
ful.  So  between  him  and  Tom  there  was  talk  enough,  Jim 
being  excited  because  the  land  was  so  full  of  history — Jo 
seph  and  his  brethren,  Moses  in  the  bulrushers,  Jacob  com 
ing  down  into  Egypt  to  buy  corn,  the  silver  cup  in  the  sack, 
and  all  them  interesting  things*,  and  Tom  just  as  excited 
too,  because  the  land  was  so  full  of  history  that  was  in  his 
line,  about  Noureddin,  and  Bedreddin,  and  such  like  mon 
strous  giants,  that  made  Jim's  wool  rise,  and  a  raft  of  other 
Arabian  Nights  folks,  which  the  half  of  them  never  done 
the  things  they  let  on  they  done,  I  don't  believe. 

Then  we  struck  a  disappointment,  for  one  of  them  early 
morning  fogs  started  up,  and  it  warn't  no  use  to  sail  over 
the  top  of  it,  because  we  would  go  by  Egypt,  sure,  so  we 
judged  it  was  best  to  set  her  by  compass  straight  for  the 
place  where  the  pyramids  was  gitting  blurred  and  blotted 
out,  and  then  drop  low  and  skin  along  pretty  close  to  the 
ground  and  keep  a  sharp  lookout.  Tom  took  the  helium, 
I  stood  by  to  let  go  the  anchor,  and  Jim  he  straddled  the 
bow  to  dig  through  the  fog  with  his  eyes  and  watch  out  for 
danger  ahead.  We  went  along  a  steady  gait,  but  not  very 
fast,  and  the  fog  got  solider  and  solider,  so  solid  that  Jim 
looked  dim  and  ragged  and  smoky  through  it.  It  was  awful 
still,  and  we  talked  low  and  was  anxious.  Now  and  then 
Jim  would  say — 


95 

"  Highst  her  a  p'int,  Mars  Tom,  highst  her  !"  and  up  she 
would  skip,  a  foot  or  two,  and  we  would  slide  right  over  a 
flat-roofed  mud  cabin,  with  people  that  had  been  asleep  on 
it  just  beginning  to  turn  out  and  gap  and  stretch  :  and  once 
when  a  feller  was  clear  up  on  his  hind  legs  so  he  could  gap 
and  stretch  better,  we  took  him  a  blip  in  the  back  and 
knocked  him  off.  By -and -by,  after  about  an  hour,  and 
everything  dead  still  and  we  a-straining  our  ears  for  sounds 
and  holding  our  breath,  the  fog  thinned  a  little,  very  sudden, 
and  Jim  sung  out  in  an  awful  scare — 

"Oh,  for  de  lan's  sake,  set  her  back,  Mars  Tom,  here's 
de  biggest  giant  outen  de  'Rabian  Nights  a-comin'  for  us  1" 
and  he  went  over  backwards  in  the  boat. 

Tom  slammed  on  the  back-action,  and  as  we  slowed  to  a 
standstill  a  man's  face  as  big  as  our  house  at  home  looked 
in  over  the  gunnel,  same  as  a  house  looks  out  of  its  windows, 
and  I  laid  down  and  died.  I  must  'a'  been  clear  dead  and 
gone  for  as  much  as  a  minute  or  more ;  then  I  come  to,  and 
Tom  had  hitched  a  boat-hook  onto  the  lower  lip  of  the  giant 
and  was  holding  the  balloon  steady  with  it  whilst  he  canted 
his  head  back  and  got  a  good  long  look  up  at  that  awful 
face. 

Jim  was  on  his  knees  with  his  hands  clasped,  gazing  up 
at  the  thing  in  a  begging  way,  and  working  his  lips  but  not 
getting  anything  out.  I  took  only  just  a  glimpse,  and  was 
fading  out  again,  but  Tom  says — 

"  He  ain't  alive,  you  fools ;  it's  the  Sphinx !" 

I  never  see  Tom  look  so  little  and  like  a  fly ;  but  that  was 
because  the  giant's  head  was  so  big  and  awful.  Awful,  yes, 
so  it  was,  but  not  dreadful,  any  more,  because  you  could 
see  it  was  a  noble  face,  and  kind  of  sad,  and  not  thinking 
about  you,  but  about  other  things  and  larger.  It  was  stone, 
reddish  stone,  and  its  nose  and  ears  battered,  and  that  give 
it  an  abused  look,  and  you  felt  sorrier  for  it,  for  that. 


96 

We  stood  off  a  piece,  and  sailed  around  it  and  over  it, 
and  it  was  just  grand.  It  was  a  man's  head,  or  maybe  a 
woman's,  on  a  tiger's  body  a  hundred  and  twenty-five  foot 
long,  and  there  was  a  dear  little  temple  between  its  front 
paws.  All  but  the  head  used  to  be  under  the  sand,  for 
hundreds  of  years,  maybe  thousands,  but  they  had  just 
lately  dug  the  sand  away  and  found  that  little  temple.  It 
took  a  power  of  sand  to  bury  that  cretur  ;  most  as  much  as 
it  would  to  bury  a  steamboat,  I  reckon. 

We  landed  Jim  on  top  of  the  head,  with  an  American  flag 
to  protect  him,  it  being  a  foreign  land  ;  then  we  sailed  off  to 
to  this  and  that  and  t'other  distance,  to  git  what  Tom  called 
effects  and  perspectives  and  proportions,  and  Jim  he  done 
the  best  he  could,  striking  all  the  different  kinds  of  attitudes 
and  positions  he  could  study  up,  but  standing  on  his  head 
and  working  his  legs  the  way  a  frog  does  was  the  best.  The 
further  we  got  away,  the  littler  Jim  got,  and  the  grander  the 
Sphinx  got,  till  at  last  it  was  only  a  clothes-pin  on  a  dome, 
as  you  might  say.  That's  the  way  perspective  brings  out 
the  correct  proportions,  Tom  said ;  he  said  Julus  Cesar's 
niggers  didn't  know  how  big  he  was,  they  was  too  close  to 
him. 

Then  we  sailed  off  further  and  further,  till  we  couldn't  see 
Jim  at  all,  any  more,  and  then  that  great  figger  was  at  its 
noblest,  a-gazing  out  over  the  Nile  Valley  so  still  and  solemn 
and  lonesome,  and  all  the  little  shabby  huts  and  things  that 
was  scattered  about  it  clean  disappeared  and  gone,  and 
nothing  around  it  now  but  a  soft  wide  spread  of  yaller 
velvet,  which  was  the  sand. 

That  was  the  right  place  to  stop,  and  we  done  it.  We  set 
there  a-looking  and  a- thinking  for  a  half  an  hour,  nobody  a- 
saying  anything,  for  it  made  us  feel  quiet  and  kind  of  solemn 
to  remember  it  had  been  looking  over  that  valley  just  that 
same  way,  and  thinking  its  awful  thoughts  all  to  itself  for 


JTM    STANDING    A    SIF.r,K 


97 

thousands  of  years,  and  nobody  can't  find  out  what  they  are 
to  this  day. 

At  last  I  took  up  the  glass  and  see  some  little  black  things 
a-capering  around  on  that  velvet  carpet,  and  some  more  a- 
climbing  up  the  cretur's  back,  and  then  I  see  two  or  three 
wee  puffs  of  white  smoke,  and  told  Tom  to  look.  He  done 
it,  and  says — 

"They're  bugs.  No  —  hold  on;  they — why,  I  believe 
they're  men.  Yes,  it's  men — men  and  horses,  both.  They're 
hauling  a  long  ladder  up  onto  the  Sphinx's  back — now  ain't 
that  odd  ?  And  now  they're  trying  to  lean  it  up  a — there's 
some  more  puffs  of  smoke — it's  guns !  Huck,  they're  after 
Jim!" 

We  clapped  on  the  power,  and  went  for  them  a-biling. 
We  was  there  in  no  time,  and  come  a-whizzing  down 
amongst  them,  and  they  broke  and  scattered  every  which 
way,  and  some  that  was  climbing  the  ladder  after  Jim  let 
go  all  holts  and  fell.  We  soared  up  and  found  him  laying 
on  top  of  the  head  panting  and  most  tuckered  out,  partly 
from  howling  for  help  and  partly  from  scare.  He  had 
been  standing  a  'siege  a  long  time — a  week,  he  said,  but  it 
warn't  so,  it  only  just  seemed  so  to  him  because  they  was 
crowding  him  so.  They  had  shot  at  him,  and  rained  the 
bullets  all  around  him,  but  he  warn't  hit,  and  when  they 
found  he  wouldn't  stand  up  and  the  bullets  couldn't  git  at 
him  when  he  was  laying  down,  they  went  for  the  ladder, 
and  then  he  knowed  it  was  all  up  with  him  if  we  didn't 
come  pretty  quick.  Tom  was  very  indignant,  and  asked 
him  why  he  didn't  show  the  flag  and  command  them 
to  git,  in  the  name  of  the  United  States.  Jim  said  he 
done  it,  but  they  never  paid  no  attention.  Tom  said  he 
would  have  this  thing  looked  into  at  Washington,  and 
says— 

"  You'll  see  that  they'll  have  to  apologize  for  insulting 

7T3 


98 

the  flag,  and  pay  an  indemnity,  too,  on  top  of  it,  even  if  they 
git  off  that  easy." 

Jim  says — 

"What's  an  indemnity,  Mars  Tom?" 

"It's  cash,  that's  what  it  is." 

"  Who  gits  it,  Mars  Tom  ?" 

"  Why,  we  do." 

"En  who  gits  de  apology?" 

"The  United  States.  Or,  we  can  take  whichever  we 
please.  We  can  take  the  apology,  if  we  want  to,  and  let 
the  gov'ment  take  the  money." 

"  How  much  money  will  it  be,  Mars  Tom  ?" 

"Well,  in  an  aggravated  case  like  this  one,  it  will  be  at 
least  three  dollars  apiece,  and  I  don't  know  but  more." 

"Well,  den,  we'll  take  de  money,  Mars  Tom,  blame  de 
'pology.  Hain't  dat  yo'  notion,  too  ?  En  hain't  it  yourn, 
Huck?" 

We  talked  it  over  a  little  and  allowed  that  that  was  as 
good  a  way  as  any,  so  we  agreed  to  take  the  money.  It 
was  a  new  business  to  me,  and  I  asked  Tom  if  countries 
always  apologized  when  they  had  done  wrong,  and  he  says — 

"  Yes  ;  the  little  ones  does." 

We  was  sailing  around  examining  the  pyramids,  you 
know,  and  now  we  soared  up  and  roosted  on  the  flat  top 
of  the  biggest  one,  and  found  it  was  just  like  what  the 
man  said  in  the  Sunday-school.  It  was  like  four  pairs  of 
stairs  that  starts  broad  at  the  bottom  and  slants  up  and 
comes  together  in  a  point  at  the  top,  only  these  stair-steps 
couldn't  be  clumb  the  way  you  climb  other  stairs ;  no,  for 
each  step  was  as  high  as  your  chin,  and  you  have  to  be 
boosted  up  from  behind.  The  two  other  pyramids  warn't 
far  away,  and  the  people  moving  about  on  the  sand  be 
tween  looked  like  bugs  crawling,  we  was  so  high  above 
them. 


99 

Tom  he  couldn't  hold  himself  he  was  so  worked  up  with 
gladness  and  astonishment  to  be  in  such  a  celebrated  place, 
and  he  just  dripped  history  from  every  pore,  seemed  to  me. 
He  said  he  couldn't  scarcely  believe  he  was  standing  on 
the  very  identical  spot  the  prince  flew  from  on  the  Bronze 
Horse.  It  was  in  the  Arabian  Night  times,  he  said.  Some 
body  give  the  prince  a  bronze  horse  with  a  peg  in  its 
shoulder,  and  he  could  git  on  him  and  fly  through  the  air 
like  a  bird,  and  go  all  over  the  world,  and  steer  it  by  turning 
the  peg,  and  fly  high  or  low  and  land  wherever  he  wanted  to. 

When  he  got  done  telling  it  there  was  one  of  them  un 
comfortable  silences  that  comes,  you  know,  when  a  person 
has  been  telling  a  whopper  and  you  feel  sorry  for  him  and 
wish  you  could  think  of  some  way  to  change  the  subject 
and  let  him  down  easy,  but  git  stuck  and  don't  see  no  way, 
and  before  you  can  pull  your  mind  together  and  do  some 
thing,  that  silence  has  got  in  and  spread  itself  and  done 
the  business.  I  was  embarrassed,  Jim  he  was  embarrassed, 
and  neither  of  us  couldn't  say  a  word.  Well,  Tom  he  glow 
ered  at  me  a  minute,  and  says — 

"  Come,  out  with  it.     What  do  you  think  ?" 

I  says — 

"Tom  Sawyer,  you  don't  believe  that,  yourself." 

"  What's  the  reason  I  don't  ?     What's  to  hender  me  ?" 

"There's  one  thing  to  hender  you:  it  couldn't  happen, 
that's  all." 

"What's  the  reason  it  couldn't  happen  ?" 

"  You  tell  me  the  reason  it  could  happen." 

"  This  balloon  is  a  good  enough  reason  it  could  happen, 
I  should  reckon." 

"  Why  is  it  ?" 

"  Why  is  it  ?     I  never  saw  such  an  idiot.     Ain't   this 
balloon  and  the  bronze  horse  the  same  thing 
names  ?" 


100 


"  No,  they're  not.  One  is  a  balloon  and  the  other's  a 
horse.  It's  very  different.  Next  you'll  be  saying  a  house 
and  a  cow  is  the  same  thing." 

"  By  Jackson,  Huck's  got  him  ag'in !  Dey  ain't  no 
wigglin'  outer  dat !" 

"  Shut  your  head,  Jim  ;  you  don't  know  what  you're  talk 
ing  about.  And  Huck  don't.  Look  here,  Huck,  I'll  make 
it  plain  to  you,  so  you  can  understand.  You  see,  it  ain't 
the  mere  form  that's  got  anything  to  do  with  their  being 
similar  or  unsimilar,  it's  the  principle  involved  ;  and  the 
principle  is  the  same  in  both.  Don't  you  see,  now  ?" 

I  turned  it  over  in  my  mind,  and  says — 

"  Tom,  it  ain't  no  use.  Principles  is  all  very  well,  but 
they  don't  git  around  that  one  big  fact,  that  the  thing  that 
a  balloon  can  do  ain't  no  sort  of  proof  of  what  a  horse  can 
do." 

"  Shucks,  Huck,  you  don't  get  the  idea  at  all.  Now  look 
here  a  minute — it's  perfectly  plain.  Don't  we  fly  through 
the  air  ?" 

"  Yes." 

"  Very  well.  Don't  we  fly  high  or  fly  low,  just  as  we 
please  ?" 

"Yes." 

"  Don't  we  steer  whichever  way  we  want  to  ?" 

"  Yes." 

"  And  don't  we  land  when  and  where  we  please  ?" 

"  Yes." 

"  How  do  we  move  the  balloon  and  steer  it  ?" 

"  By  touching  the  buttons." 

"  Now  I  reckon  the  thing  is  clear  to  you  at  last.  In  the 
t»ther  case  the  moving  and  steering  was  done  by  turning  a 
peg.  We  touch  a  button,  the  prince  turned  a  peg.  There 
ain't  an  atom  of  difference,  you  see.  I  knowed  I  could  git 
it  through  your  head  if  I  stuck  to  it  long  enough." 


101 


He  felt  so  happy  he  begun  to  whistle.  But  me  and  Jim 
was  silent,  so  he  broke  off  surprised,  and  says — 

"  Looky  here,  Huck  Finn,  don't  you  see  it  yet?" 

I  says — 

"  Tom  Sawyer,  I  want  to  ask  you  some  questions." 

"  Go  ahead,"  he  says,  and  I  see  Jim  chirk  up  to  listen. 

"  As  I  understand  it,  the  whole  thing  is  in  the  buttons 
and  the  peg — the  rest  ain't  of  no  consequence.  A  button 
is  one  shape,  a  peg  is  another  shape,  but  that  ain't  any 
matter  ?" 

"  No,  that  ain't  any  matter,  as  long  as  they've  both  got 
the  same  power." 

"  All  right,  then.  What  is  the  power  that's  in  a  candle 
and  in  a  match  ?" 

"  It's  the  fire." 

"  It's  the  same  in  both,  then  ?" 

"Yes,  just  the  same  in  both." 

"  All  right.  Suppose  I  set  fire  to  a  carpenter  shop  with 
a  match,  what  will  happen  to  that  carpenter  shop?" 

"  She'll  burn  up." 

"  And  suppose  I  set  fire  to  this  pyramid  with  a  candle — 
will  she  burn  up  ?" 

"  Of  course  she  won't." 

"  All  right.  Now  the  fire's  the  same,  both  times.  Why 
does  the  shop  burn,  and  the  pyramid  don't  ?" 

"  Because  the  pyramid  can't  burn." 

"  Aha  !  and  a  horse  can't  fly  /" 

"  My  Ian',  ef  Huck  ain't  got  him  ag'in  !  Huck's  landed 
him  high  en  dry  dis  time, /tell  you!  Hit's  de  smartes'  trap 
I  ever  see  a  body  walk  inter — en  ef  I — " 

But  Jim  was  so  full  of  laugh  he  got  to  strangling  and 
couldn't  go  on,  and  Tom  was  that  mad  to  see  how  neat  I 
had  floored  him,  and  turned  his  own  argument  ag'in  him 
and  knocked  him  all  to  rags  and  flinders  with  it,  that  all  he 


102 


could  manage  to  say  was  that  whenever  he  heard  me  and 
Jim  try  to  argue  it  made  him  ashamed  of  the  human  race. 
I  never  said  nothing ;  I  was  feeling  pretty  well  satisfied. 
When  I  have  got  the  best  of  a  person  that  way,  it  ain't  my 
way  to  go  around  crowing  about  it  the  way  some  people 
does,  for  I  consider  that  if  I  was  in  his  place  I  wouldn't 
wish  him  to  crow  over  me.  It's  better  to  be  generous, 
that's  what  I  think. 


CHAPTER   XIII 
GOING    FOR   TOM'S    PIPE 

BY-AND-BY  we  left  Jim  to  float  around  up  there  in  the 
neighborhood  of  the  pyramids,  and  we  dumb  down  to  the 
hole  where  you  go  into  the  tunnel,  and  went  in  with  some 
Arabs  and  candles,  and  away  in  there  in  the  middle  of  the 
pyramid  we  found  a  room  and  a  big  stone  box  in  it  where 
they  used  to  keep  that  king,  just  as  the  man  in  the  Sunday- 
school  said  ;  but  he  was  gone,  now  ;  somebody  had  got  him. 
But  I  didn't  take  no  interest  in  the  place,  because  there 
could  be  ghosts  there,  of  course  ;  not  fresh  ones,  but  I  don't 
like  no  kind. 

So  then  we  come  out  and  got  some  little  donkeys  and 
rode  a  piece,  and  then  went  in  a  boat  another  piece,  and 
then  more  donkeys,  and  got  to  Cairo ;  and  all  the  way  the 
road  was  as  smooth  and  beautiful  a  road  as  ever  I  see,  and 
had  tall  date-pa'ms  on  both  sides,  and  naked  children 
everywhere,  and  the  men  was  as  red  as  copper,  and  fine 
and  strong  and  handsome.  And  the  city  was  a  curiosity. 
Such  narrow  streets — why,  they  were  just  lanes,  and  crowd 
ed  with  people  with  turbans,  and  women  with  veils,  and 
everybody  rigged  out  in  blazing  bright  clothes  and  all  sorts 
of  colors,  and  you  wondered  how  the  camels  and  the  people 
got  by  each  other  in  such  narrow  little  cracks,  but  they 
done  it — a  perfect  jam,  you  see,  and  everybody  noisy.  The 
stores  warn't  big  enough  to  turn  around  in,  but  you  didn't 
have  to  go  in ;  the  storekeeper  sat  tailor  fashion  on  his 


104 

counter,  smoking  his  snaky  long  pipe,  and  had  his  things 
where  he  could  reach  them  to  sell,  and  he  was  just  as  good 
as  in  the  street,  for  the  camel-loads  brushed  him  as  they 
went  by. 

Now  and  then  a  grand  person  flew  by  in  a  carriage  with 
fancy  dressed  men  running  and  yelling  in  front  of  it  and 
whacking  anybody  with  a  long  rod  that  didn't  get  out  of  the 
way.  And  by-and-by  along  comes  the  Sultan  riding  horse 
back  at  the  head  of  a  procession,  and  fairly  took  your 
breath  away  his  clothes  was  so  splendid  ;  and  everybody  fell 
flat  and  laid  on  his  stomach  while  he  went  by.  I  forgot, 
but  a  feller  helped  me  remember.  He  was  one  that  had  a 
rod  and  run  in  front. 

There  was  churches,  but  they  don't  know  enough  to  keep 
Sunday;  they  keep  Friday  and  break  the  Sabbath.  You 
have  to  take  off  your  shoes  when  you  go  in.  There  was 
crowds  of  men  and  boys  in  the  church,  setting  in  groups  on 
the  stone  floor  and  making  no  end  of  noise — getting  their 
lessons  by  heart,  Tom  said,  out  of  the  Koran,  which  they 
think  is  a  Bible,  and  people  that  knows  better  knows 
enough  to  not  let  on.  I  never  see  such  a  big  church  in 
my  life  before,  and  most  awful  high,  it  was ;  it  made  you 
dizzy  to  look  up ;  our  village  church  at  home  ain't  a  cir 
cumstance  to  it ;  if  you  was  to  put  it  in  there,  people  would 
think  it  was  a  dry-goods  box. 

What  I  wanted  to  see  was  a  dervish,  because  I  was  inter 
ested  in  dervishes  on  accounts  of  the  one  that  played  the 
trick  on  the  camel-driver.  So  we  found  a  lot  in  a  kind  of 
a  church,  and  they  called  themselves  Whirling  Dervishes ; 
and  they  did  whirl,  too,  I  never  see  anything  like  it.  They 
had  tall  sugar-loaf  hats  on,  and  linen  petticoats  ;  and  they 
spun  and  spun  and  spun,  round  and  round  like  tops,  and 
the  petticoats  stood  out  on  a  slant,  and  it  was  the  prettiest 
thing  I  ever  see,  and  made  me  drunk  to  look  at  it.  They 


was  all  Moslems,  Torn  said,  and  when  I  asked  him  what 
a  Moslem  was,  he  said  it  was  a  person  that  wasn't  a  Pres 
byterian.  So  there  is  plenty  of  them  in  Missouri,  though 
I  didn't  know  it  before. 

We  didn't  see  half  there  was  to  see  in  Cairo,  because  Tom 
was  in  such  a  sweat  to  hunt  out  places  that  was  celebrated 
in  history.  We  had  a  most  tiresome  time  to  find  the  gran 
ary  where  Joseph  stored  up  the  grain  before  the  famine, 
and  when  we  found  it  it  warn't  worth  much  to  look  at,  be 
ing  such  an  old  tumble-down  wreck,  but  Tom  was  satisfied, 
and  made  more  fuss  over  it  than  I  would  make  if  I  stuck 
a  nail  in  my  foot.  How  he  ever  found  that  place  was  too 
many  for  me.  We  passed  as  much  as  forty  just  like  it  be 
fore  we  come  to  it,  and  any  of  them  would  'a'  done  for  me, 
but  none  but  just  the  right  one  would  suit  him  ;  I  never  see 
anybody  so  particular  as  Tom  Sawyer.  The  minute  he 
struck  the  right  one  he  reconnized  it  as  easy  as  I  would 
reconnize  my  other  shirt  if  I  had  one,  but  how  he  done  it 
he  couldn't  any  more  tell  than  he  could  fly ;  he  said  so  him 
self. 

Then  we  hunted  a  long  time  for  the  house  where  the  boy 
lived  that  learned  the  cadi  how  to  try  the  case  of  the  old 
olives  and  the  new  ones,  and  said  it  was  out  of  the  Arabian 
Nights,  and  he  would  tell  me  and  Jim  about  it  when  he  got 
time.  Well,  we  hunted  and  hunted  till  I  was  ready  to  drop, 
and  I  wanted  Tom  to  give  it  up  and  come  next  day  and  git 
somebody  that  knowed  the  town  and  could  talk  Missourian 
and  could  go  straight  to  the  place  ;  but  no,  he  wanted  to 
find  it  himself,  and  nothing  else  would  answer.  So  on  we 
went.  Then  at  last  the  remarkablest  thing  happened  I  ever 
see.  The  house  was  gone — gone  hundreds  of  years  ago — 
every  last  rag  of  it  gone  but  just  one  mud  brick.  Now  a 
person  wouldn't  ever  believe  that  a  backwoods  Missouri 
boy  that  hadn't  ever  been  in  that  town  before  could  go  and 


io6 


hunt  that  place  over  and  find  that  brick,  but  Tom  Sawyer 
done  it.  I  know  he  done  it,  because  I  see  him  do  it.  I 
was  right  by  his  very  side  at  the  time,  and  see  him  see  the 
brick  and  see  him  reconnize  it.  Well,  I  says  to  myself,  how 
does  he  do  it  ?  is  it  knowledge,  or  is  it  instink  ? 

Now  there's  the  facts,  just  as  they  happened :  let  every 
body  explain  it  their  own  way.  I've  ciphered  over  it  a  good 
deal,  and  it's  my  opinion  that  some  of  it  is  knowledge  but 
the  main  bulk  of  it  is  instink.  The  reason  is  this.  Tom 
put  the  brick  in  his  pocket  to  give  to  a  museum  with  his 
name  on  it  and  the  facts  when  he  went  home,  and  I  slipped 
it  out  and  put  another  brick  considerable  like  it  in  its  place, 
and  he  didn't  know  the  difference — but  there  was  a  differ 
ence,  you  see.  I  think  that  settles  it — it's  mostly  instink, 
not  knowledge.  Instink  tells  him  where  the  exact  place  is 
for  the  brick  to  be  in,  and  so  he  reconnizes  it  by  the  place 
it's  in,  not  by  the  look  of  the  brick.  If  it  was  knowledge, 
not  instink,  he  would  know  the  brick  again  by  the  look  of  it 
the  next  time  he  seen  it — which  he  didn't.  So  it  shows  that 
for  all  the  brag  you  hear  about  knowledge  being  such  a 
wonderful  thing,  instink  is  worth  forty  of  it  for  real  un- 
erringness.  Jim  says  the  same. 

When  we  got  back  Jim  dropped  down  and  took  us  in, 
and  there  was  a  young  man  there  with  a  red  skull-cap  and 
tassel  on  and  a  beautiful  blue  silk  jacket  and  baggy  trousers 
with  a  shawl  around  his  waist  and  pistols  in  it  that  could 
talk  English  and  wanted  to  hire  to  us  as  guide  and  take  us 
to  Mecca  and  Medina  and  Central  Africa  and  everywheres 
for  a  half  a  dollar  a  day  and  his  keep,  and  we  hired  him 
and  left,  and  piled  on  the  power,  and  by  the  time  we  was 
through  dinner  we  was  over  the  place  where  the  Israelites 
crossed  the  Red  Sea  when  Pharaoh  tried  to  overtake  them 
and  was  caught  by  the  waters.  We  stopped,  then,  and  had 
a  good  look  at  the  place,  and  it  done  Jim  good  to  see  it. 


107 

He  said  he  could  see  it  all,  now,  just  the  way  it  happened ; 
he  could  see  the  Israelites  walking  along  between  the  walls 
of  water,  and  the  Egyptians  coming,  from  away  off  yonder, 
hurrying  ail  they  could,  and  see  them  start  in  as  the  Israel 
ites  went  out,  and  then  when  they  was  all  in,  see  the  walls 
tumble  together  and  drown  the  last  man  of  them.  Then  we 
piled  on  the  power  again  and  rushed  away  and  huvvered 
over  Mount  Sinai,  and  saw  the  place  where  Moses  broke 
the  tables  of  stone,  and  where  the  children  of  Israel  camped 
in  the  plain  and  worshipped  the  golden  calf,  and  it  was  all 
just  as  interesting  as  could  be,  and  the  guide  knowed  every 
place  as  well  as  I  know  the  village  at  home. 

But  we  had  an  accident,  now,  and  it  fetched  all  the  plans 
to  a  standstill.  Tom's  old  ornery  corn-cob  pipe  had  got  so  old 
and  swelled  and  warped  that  she  couldn't  hold  together  any 
longer,  notwithstanding  the  strings  and  bandages,  but  caved 
in  and  went  to  pieces.  Tom  he  didn't  know  what  to  do. 
The  professor's  pipe  wouldn't  answer ;  it  warn't  anything  but 
a  mershum,  and  a  person  that's  got  used  to  a  cob  pipe  knows 
it  lays  a  long  ways  over  all  the  other  pipes  in  this  world, 
and  you  can't  git  him  to  smoke  any  other.  He  wouldn't 
take  mine,  I  couldn't  persuade  him.  So  there  he  was. 

He  thought  it  over,  and  said  we  must  scour  around  and 
see  if  we  could  roust  out  one  in  Egypt  or  Arabia  or  around 
in  some  of  these  countries,  but  the  guide  said  no,  it  warn't 
no  use,  they  didn't  have  them.  So  Tom  was  pretty  glum 
for  a  little  while,  then  he  chirked  up  and  said  he'd  got  the 
idea  and  knowed  what  to  do.  He  says — 

"  I've  got  another  corn-cob  pipe,  and  it's  a  prime  one, 
too,  and  nearly  new.  It's  laying  on  the  rafter  that's  right 
over  the  kitchen  stove  at  home  in  the  village.  Jim,  you  and 
the  guide  will  go  and  get  it,  and  me  and  Huck  will  camp 
here  on  Mount  Sinai  till  you  come  back." 

"  But,  Mars  Tom,  we  couldn't  ever  find  de  village.   I  could 


io8 


find  de  pipe,  'caze  I  knows  de  kitchen,  but  my  Ian',  we  can't 
ever  find  de  village,  nur  Sent  Louis,  nur  none  o'  dem  places. 
We  don't  know  de  way,  Mars  Tom." 

That  was  a  fact,  and  it  stumped  Tom  for  a  minute.  Then 
he  said — 

"  Looky  here,  it  can  be  done,  sure ;  and  I'll  tell  you 
how.  You  set  your  compass  and  sail  west  as  straight  as 
a  dart,  till  you  find  the  United  States.  It  ain't  any  trouble, 
because  it's  the  first  land  you'll  strike  the  other  side  of  the 
Atlantic.  If  it's  daytime  when  you  strike  it,  bulge  right 
on,  straight  west  from  the  upper  part  of  the  Florida  coast, 
and  in  an  hour  and  three  quarters  you'll  hit  the  mouth  of 
the  Mississippi — at  the  speed  that  I'm  going  to  send  you. 
You'll  be  so  high  up  in  the  air  that  the  earth  will  be  curved 
considerable  —  sorter  like  a  washbowl  turned  upside  down 
— and  you'll  see  a  raft  of  rivers  crawling  around  every 
which  way,  long  before  you  get  there,  and  you  can  pick  out 
the  Mississippi  without  any  trouble.  Then  you  can  follow 
the  river  north  nearly,  an  hour  and  three  quarters,  till  you 
see  the  Ohio  come  in ;  then  you  want  to  look  sharp,  be 
cause  you're  getting  near.  Away  up  to  your  left  you'll  see 
another  thread  coming  in — that's  the  Missouri  and  is  a 
little  above  St.  Louis.  You'll  come  down  low,  then,  so  as 
you  can  examine  the  villages  as  you  spin  along.  You'll  pass 
about  twenty-five  in  the  next  fifteen  minutes,  and  you'll 
recognize  ours  when  you  see  it — and  if  you  don't,  you  can 
yell  down  and  ask." 

"  Ef  it's  dat  easy,  Mars  Tom,  I  reckon  we  kin  do  it— 
yassir,  I  knows  we  kin." 

The  guide  was  sure  of  it,  too,  and  thought  that  he  could 
learn  to  stand  his  watch  in  a  little  while. 

"Jim  can  learn  you  the  whole  thing  in  a  half  an  hour," 
Tom  said.  "This  balloon's  as  easy  to  manage  as  a 
canoe." 


109 

Tom  got  out  the  chart  and  marked  out  the  course  and 
measured  it,  and  says — 

"To  go  back  west  is  the  shortest  way,  you  see.  It's 
only  about  seven  thousand  miles.  If  you  went  east,  and 
so  on  around,  it's  over  twice  as  far."  Then  he  says  to  the 
guide,  "  I  want  you  both  to  watch  the  tell-tale  all  through 
the  watches,  and  whenever  it  don't  mark  three  hundred 
miles  an  hour,  you  go  higher  or  drop  lower  till  you  find  a 
storm-current  that's  going  your  way.  There's  a  hundred 
miles  an  hour  in  this  old  thing  without  any  wind  to  help. 
There's  two  hundred-mile  gales  to  be  found,  any  time  you 
want  to  hunt  for  them." 

"  We'll  hunt  for  them,  sir." 

"  See  that  you  do.  Sometimes  you  may  have  to  go  up 
a  couple  of  miles,  and  it'll  be  p'ison  cold,  but  most  of  the 
time  you'll  find  your  storm  a  good  deal  lower.  If  you  can 
only  strike  a  cyclone  —  that's  the  ticket  for  you !  You'll 
see  by  the  professor's  books  that  they  travel  west  in  these 
latitudes  ;  and  they  travel  low,  too." 

Then  he  ciphered  on  the  time,  and  says — 

"  Seven  thousand  miles,  three  hundred  miles  an  hour — 
you  can  make  the  trip  in  a  day — twenty-four  hours.  This  is 
Thursday ;  you'll  be  back  here  Saturday  afternoon.  Come, 
now,  hustle  out  some  blankets  and  food  and  books  and 
things  for  me  and  Huck,  and  you  can  start  right  along. 
There  ain't  no  occasion  to  fool  around — I  want  a  smoke, 
and  the  quicker  you  fetch  that  pipe  the  better." 

All  hands  jumped  for  the  things,  and  in  eight  minutes 
our  things  was  out  and  the  balloon  was  ready  for  America. 
So  we  shook  hands  good -by,  and  Tom  gave  his  last 
orders  : 

"It's  10  minutes  to  2  P.M.  now,  Mount  Sinai  time.  In 
24  hours  you'll  be  home,  and  it  '11  be  6  to-morrow  morning, 
village  time.  When  you  strike  the  village,  land  a  little 


no 


back  of  the  top  of  the  hill,  in  the  woods,  out  of  sight; 
then  you  rush  down,  Jim,  and  shove  these  letters  in  the 
post-office,  and  if  you  see  anybody  stirring,  pull  your  slouch 
down  over  your  face  so  they  won't  know  you.  Then  you 
go  and  slip  in  the  back  way,  to  the  kitchen  and  git  the 
pipe,  and  lay  this  piece  of  paper  on  the  kitchen  table 
and  put  something  on  it  to  hold  it,  and  then  slide  out 
and  git  away  and  don't  let  Aunt  Polly  catch  a  sight  of 
you,  nor  nobody  else.  Then  you  jump  for  the  balloon  and 
shove  for  Mount  Sinai  three  hundred  miles  an  hour.  You 
won't  have  lost  more  than  an  hour.  You'll  start  back  at 
7  or  8  A.M.,  village  time,  and  be  here  in  24  hours,  arriving 
at  2  or  3  P.M.,  Mount  Sinai  time." 

Tom  he  read  the  piece  of  paper  to  us.  He  had  wrote 
on  it — 

"THURSDAY  AFTERNOON.  Tom  Sawyer  the  Erronort 
sends  his  love  to  Aunt  Polly  from  Mount  Sinai  where  the 
Ark  was,  and  so  does  Huck  Finn,  and  she  will  get  it  to 
morrow  morning  half-past  six* 

"ToM  SAWYER  THE  ERRONORT." 

"That'll  make  her  eyes  bulge  out  and  the  tears  come," 
he  says.  Then  he  says — 

" Stand  by!     One— two — three — away  you  go !" 

And  away  she  did  go  !  Why,  she  seemed  to  whiz  out  of 
sight  in  a  second. 

Then  we  found  a  most  comfortable  cave  that  looked  out 
over  the  whole  big  plain,  and  there  we  camped  to  wait  for 
the  pipe. 


*  This  misplacing  of  the  Ark  is  probably  Huck's  error,  not  Tom's. 
— M.T. 


Ill 


The  balloon  come  back  all  right,  and  brung  the  pipe; 
but  Aunt  Polly  had  catched  Jim  when  he  was  getting  it, 
and  anybody  can  guess  what  happened :  she  sent  for  Tom. 
So  Jim  he  says — 

"  Mars  Tom,  she's  out  on  de  porch  wid  her  eye  sot  on 
de  sky  a-layin'  for  you,  en  she  say  she  ain't  gwyne  to 
budge  from  dah  tell  she  gits  hold  of  you.  Dey's  gwyne  to 
be  trouble,  Mars  Tom,  'deed  dey  is." 

So  then  we  shoved  for  home,  and  not  feeling  very  gay, 
neither. 

8T8 


TOM   SAWYER,  DETECTIVE 


TOM   SAWYER,   DETECTIVE* 


CHAPTER    I 

WELL,  it  was  the  next  spring  after  me  and  Tom  Sawyer 
set  our  old  nigger  Jim  free,  the  time  he  was  chained  up  for 
a  runaway  slave  down  there  on  Tom's  uncle  Silas's  farm  in 
Arkansaw.  The  frost  was  working  out  of  the  ground,  and 
out  of  the  air  too,  and  it  was  getting  closer  and  closer  onto 
barefoot  time  every  day ;  and  next  it  would  be  marble  time, 
and  next  mumbletypeg,  and  next  tops  and  hoops,  and  next 
kites,  and  then  right  away  it  would  be  summer  and  going  in 
a-swimming.  It  just  makes  a  boy  homesick  to  look  ahead 
like  that  and  see  how  far  off.  summer  is.  Yes,  and  it  sets 
him  to  sighing  and  saddening  around,  and  there's  something 
the  matter  with  him,  he  don't  know  what.  But  anyway,  he 
gets  out  by  himself  and  mopes  and  thinks ;  and  mostly  he 
hunts  for  a  lonesome  place  high  up  on  the  hill  in  the  edge 
of  the  woods,  and  sets  there  and  looks  away  off  on  the  big 
Mississippi  down  there  a- reaching  miles  and  miles  around 
the  points  where  the  timber  looks  smoky  and  dim  it's  so  far 

*  Strange  as  the  incidents  of  this  story  are,  they  are  not  inventions, 
but  facts — even  to  the  public  confession  of  the  accused.  I  take  them 
from  an  old-time  Swedish  criminal  trial,  change  the  actors,  and  transfer 
the  scene  to  America.  I  have  added  some  details,  but  only  a  couple  of 
them  are  important  ones. — M.T. 


n6 


off  and  still,  and  everything's  so  solemn  it  seems  like  every 
body  you've  loved  is  dead  and  gone,  and  you  'most  wish 
you  was  dead  and  gone  too,  and  done  with  it  all. 

Don't  you  know  what  that  is  ?  It's  spring  fever.  That 
is  what  the  name  of  it  is.  And  when  you've  got  it,  you  want 
— oh,  you  don't  quite  know  what  it  is  you  do  want,  but  it 
just  fairly  makes  your  heart  ache,  you  want  it  so !  It  seems 
to  you  that  mainly  what  you  want  is  to  get  away ;  get  away 
from  the  same  old  tedious  things  you're  so  used  to  seeing 
and  so  tired  of,  and  see  something  new.  That  is  the  idea ; 
you  want  to  go  and  be  a  wanderer ;  you  want  to  go  wander 
ing  far  away  to  strange  countries  where  everything  is  mys 
terious  and  wonderful  and  romantic.  And  if  you  can't  do 
that,  you'll  put  up  with  considerable  less ;  you'll  go  any 
where  you  can  go,  just  so  as  to  get  away,  and  be  thankful 
of  the  chance,  too. 

Well,  me  and  Tom  Sawyer  had  the  spring  fever,  and  had 
it  bad,  too  ;  but  it  warn't  any  use  to  think  about  Tom  trying 
to  get  away,  because,  as  he  said,  his  aunt  Polly  wouldn't 
let  him  quit  school  and  go  traipsing  off  somers  wasting  time; 
so  we  was  pretty  blue.  We  was  setting  on  the  front  steps 
one  day  about  sundown  talking  this  way,  when  out  comes  his 
aunt  Polly  with  a  letter  in  her  hand  and  says — 

"Tom,  I  reckon  you've  got  to  pack  up  and  go  down  to 
Arkansaw — your  aunt  Sally  wants  you." 

I  'most  jumped  out  of  my  skin  for  joy.  I  reckoned  Tom 
would  fly  at  his  aunt  and  hug  her  head  off;  but  if  you  be 
lieve  me  he  set  there  like  a  rock,  and  never  said  a  word.  It 
made  me  fit  to  cry  to  see  him  act  so  foolish,  with  such  a 
noble  chance  as  this  opening  up.  Why,  we  might  lose  it  if 
he  didn't  speak  up  and  show  he  was  thankful  and  grateful. 
But  he  set  there  and  studied  and  studied  till  I  was  that  dis 
tressed  I  didn't  know  what  to  do ;  then  he  says,  very  ca'm, 
and  I  could  a  shot  him  for  it : 


"  Well,"  he  says,  "  I'm  right  down  sorry,  Aunt  Polly,  but 
I  reckon  I  got  to  be  excused— for  the  present." 

His  aunt  Polly  was  knocked  so  stupid  and  so  mad  at  the 
cold  impudence  of  it  that  she  couldn't  say  a  word  for  as 
much  as  a  half  a  minute,  and  this  give  me  a  chance  to  nudge 
Tom  and  whisper : 

"  Ain't  you  got  any  sense  ?  Sp'iling  such  a  noble  chance 
as  this  and  throwing  it  away  ?" 

But  he  warn't  disturbed.     He  mumbled  back  : 

"  Huck  Finn,  do  you  want  me  to  let  her  see  how  bad  I 
want  to  go  ?  Why,  she'd  begin  to  doubt,  right  away,  and  im 
agine  a  lot  of  sicknesses  and  dangers  and  objections,  and 
first  you  know  she'd  take  it  all  back.  You  lemme  alone  ;  I 
reckon  I  know  how  to  work  her." 

Now  I  never  would  'a'  thought  of  that.  But  he  was 
right.  Tom  Sawyer  was  always  right — the  levelest  head  I 
ever  see,  and  always  at  himself  and  ready  for  anything  you 
might  spring  on  him.  By  this  time  his  aunt  Polly  was  all 
straight  again,  and  she  left  fly.  She  says  : 

"  You'll  be  excused  !  You  will !  Well,  I  never  heard  the  • 
like  of  it  in  all  my  days  !  The  idea  of  you  talking  like  that 
to  me!  Now  take  yourself  off  and  pack  your  traps  \  and  if 
I  hear  another  word  out  of  you  about  what  you'll  be  ex 
cused  from  and  what  you  won't,  I  lay  /'//  excuse  you — 
with  a  hickory !" 

She  hit  his  head  a  thump  with  her  thimble  as  we  dodged 
by,  and  he  let  on  to  be  whimpering  as  we  struck  for  the 
stairs.  Up  in  his  room  he  hugged  me,  he  was  so  out  of  his 
head  for  gladness  because  he  was  going  travelling.  And  he 
says  : 

"  Before  we  get  away  she'll  wish  she  hadn't  let  me 
go,  but  she  won't  know  any  way  to  get  around  it  now. 
After  what  she's  said,  her  pride  won't  let  her  take  it 
back." 


Tom  was  packed  in  ten  minutes,  all  except  what  his  aunt 
and  Mary  would  finish  up  for  him;  then  we  waited  ten 
more  for  her  to  get  cooled  down  and  sweet  and  gentle 
again ;  for  Tom  said  it  took  her  ten  minutes  to  unruffle  in 
times  when  half  of  her  feathers  was  up,  but  twenty  when 
they  was  all  up,  and  this  was  one  of  the  times  when  they 
was  all  up.  Then  we  went  down,  being  in  a  sweat  to  know 
what  the  letter  said. 

She  was  setting  there  in  a  brown  study,  with  it  laying  in 
her  lap.  We  set  down,  and  she  says  : 

"  They're  in  considerable  trouble  down  there,  and  they 
think  you  and  Huck  '11  be  a  kind  of  a  diversion  for  them — 
'  comfort,'  they  say.  Much  of  that  they'll  get  out  of  you  and 
Huck  Finn,  I  reckon.  There's  a  neighbor  named  Brace 
Dunlap  that's  been  wanting  to  marry  their  Benny  for  three 
months,  and  at  last  they  told  him  pine  blank  and  once  for 
all,  he  couldn't ;  so  he  has  soured  on  them,  and  they're 
worried  about  it.  I  reckon  he's  somebody  they  think  they 
better  be  on  the  good  side  of,  for  they've  tried  to  please 
him  by  hiring  his  no-account  brother  to  help  on  the  farm 
when  they  can't  hardly  afford  it,  and  don't  want  him  around 
anyhow.  Who  are  the  Dunlaps  ?" 

"  They  live  about  a  mile  from  Uncle  Silas's  place,  Aunt 
Polly — all  the  farmers  live  about  a  mile  apart  down  there 
— and  Brace  Dunlap  is  a  long  sight  richer  than  any  of  the 
others,  and  owns  a  whole  grist  of  niggers.  He's  a  widow 
er,  thirty-six  years  old,  without  any  children,  and  is  proud 
of  his  money  and  overbearing,  and  everybody  is  a  little 
afraid  of  him.  I  judge  he  thought  he  could  have  any  girl 
he  wanted,  just  for  the  asking,  and  it  must  have  set  him 
back  a  good  deal  when  he  found  he  couldn't  get  Benny. 
Why,  Benny's  only  half  as  old  as  he  is,  and  just  as  sweet 
and  lovely  as — well,  you've  seen  her.  Poor  old  Uncle  Silas 
—  why,  it's  pitiful,  him  trying  to  curry  favor  that  way —  so 


TO    BE   EXCUSED ' " 


hard  pushed  and  poor,  and  yet  hiring  that  useless  Jubiter 
Dunlap  to  please  his  ornery  brother." 

"  What  a  name— Jubiter  !     Where'd  he  get  it  ?" 

"  It's  only  just  a  nickname.  I  reckon  they've  forgot  his 
real  name  long  before  this.  He's  twenty-seven,  now,  and 
has  had  it  ever  since  the  first  time  he  ever  went  in  swim 
ming.  The  school-teacher  seen  a  round  brown  mole  the 
size  of  a  dime  on  his  left  leg  above  his  knee,  and  four  little 
bits  of  moles  around  it,  when  he  was  naked,  and  he  said  it 
minded  him  of  Jubiter  and  his  moons ;  and  the  children 
thought  it  was  funny,  and  so  they  got  to  calling  him  Jubi 
ter,  and  he's  Jubiter  yet.  He's  tall,  and  lazy,  and  sly,  and 
sneaky,  and  ruther  cowardly,  too,  but  kind  of  good-natured, 
and  wears  long  brown  hair  and  no  beard,  and  hasn't  got  a 
cent,  and  Brace  boards  him  for  nothing,  and  gives  him  his 
old  clothes  to  wear,  and  despises  him.  Jubiter  is  a  twin," 

"  What's  t'other  twin  like  ?" 

"Just  exactly  like  Jubiter  —  so  they  say;  used  to  was, 
anyway,  but  he  hain't  been  seen  for  seven  years.  He  got 
to  robbing  when  he  was  nineteen  or  twenty,  and  they  jailed 
him;  but  he  broke  jail  and  got  away — up  North  here, 
somers.  They  used  to  hear  about  him  robbing  and  bur- 
glaring  now  and  then,  but  that  was  years  ago.  He's  dead, 
now.  At  least  that's  what  they  say.  They  don't  hear 
about  him  any  more." 

"  What  was  his  name  ?" 

"  Jake." 

There  wasn't  anything  more  said  for  a  considerable 
while  ;  the  old  lady  was  thinking.  At  last  she  says  : 

"  The  thing  that  is  mostly  worrying  your  aunt  Sally  is  the 
tempers  that  that  man  Jubiter  gets  your  uncle  into." 

Tom  was  astonished,  and  so  was  I.     Tom  says  : 

"  Tempers  ?  Uncle  Silas  ?  Land,  you  must  be  joking  ! 
I  didn't  know  he  had  any  temper." 


120 


"Works  him  up  into  perfect  rages,  your  aunt  Sally  says; 
says  he  acts  as  if  he  would  really  hit  the  man,  sometimes.'* 

"  Aunt  Polly,  it  beats  anything  I  ever  heard  of.  Why,  he's 
just  as  gentle  as  mush." 

"Well,  she's  worried,  anyway.  Says  your  uncle  Silas  is 
like  a  changed  man,  on  account  of  all  this  quarrelling.  And 
the  neighbors  talk  about  it,  and  lay  all  the  blame  on  your 
uncle,  of  course,  because  he's  a  preacher  and  hain't  got  any 
business  to  quarrel.  Your  aunt  Sally  says  he  hates  to  go 
into  the  pulpit  he's  so  ashamed  ;  and  the  people  have  begun 
to  cool  toward  him,  and  he  ain't  as  popular  now  as  he  used 
to  was." 

"  Well,  ain't  it  strange  ?  Why,  Aunt  Polly,  he  was  al 
ways  so  good  and  kind  and  moony  and  absent-minded  and 
chuckle -headed  and  lovable  —  why,  he  was  just  an  angel! 
What  can  be  the  matter  of  him,  do  you  reckon  ?" 


CHAPTER  II 

WE  had  powerful  good  luck ;  because  we  got  a  chance  in 
a  stern-wheeler  from  away  North  which  was  bound  for  one 
of  them  bayous  or  one-horse  rivers  away  down  Louisiana 
way,  and  so  we  could  go  all  the  way  down  the  Upper  Mis 
sissippi  and  all  the  way  down  the  Lower  Mississippi  to  that 
farm  in  Arkansaw  without  having  to  change  steamboats  at 
St.  Louis :  not  so  very  much  short  of  a  thousand  miles  at 
one  pull. 

A  pretty  lonesome  boat ;  there  warn't  but  few  passengers, 
and  all  old  folks,  that  set  around,  wide  apart,  dozing,  and 
was  very  quiet.  We  was  four  days  getting  out  of  the  "  up 
per  river,"  because  we  got  aground  so  much.  But  it  warn't 
dull — couldn't  be  for  boys  that  was  travelling,  of  course. 

From  the  very  start  me  and  Tom  allowed  that  there  was 
somebody  sick  in  the  state-room  next  to  ourn,  because  the 
meals  was  always  toted  in  there  by  the  waiters.  By-and-by 
we  asked  about  it — Tom  did — and  the  waiter  said  it  was  a 
man,  but  he  didn't  look  sick. 

"  Well,  but  ain't  he  sick  ?" 

"  I  don't  know ;  maybe  he  is,  but  'pears  to  me  he's  just 
letting  on." 

"  What  makes  you  think  that  ?" 

"  Because  if  he  was  sick  he  would  pull  his  clothes  off  some 
time  or  other — don't  you  reckon  he  would  ?  Well,  this  one 
don't.  At  least  he  don't  ever  pull  off  his  boots,  anyway." 

"The  mischief  he  don't!  Not  even  when  he  goes  to 
bed?" 


122 


"No." 

It  was  always  nuts  for  Tom  Sawyer — a  mystery  was.  If 
f  you'd  lay  out  a  mystery  and  a  pie  before  me  and  him,  you 
-wouldn't  have  to  say  take  your  choice ;  it  was  a  thing  that 
would  regulate  itself.  Because  in  my  nature  I  have  always 
run  to  pie,  whilst  in  his  nature  he  has  always  run  to  mystery. 
People  are  made  different.  And  it  is  the  best  way.  Tom 
says  to  the  waiter  : 

"What's  the  man's  name  ?" 

"  Phillips." 

"  Where'd  he  come  aboard  ?" 

"  I  think  he  got  aboard  at  Elexandria,  up  on  the  Iowa 
line." 

"  What  do  you  reckon  he's  a-playing  ?" 

"  I  hain't  any  notion — I  never  thought  of  it." 

I  says  to  myself,  here's  another  one  that  runs  to  pie. 

"Anything  peculiar  about  him?  —  the  way  he  acts  or 
talks  ?" 

"  No — nothing,  except  he  seems  so  scary,  and  keeps  his 
doors  locked  night  and  day  both,  and  when  you  knock  he 
won't  let  you  in  till  he  opens  the  door  a  crack  and  sees  who 
it  is." 

"  By  jimminy,  it's  int'resting !  I'd  like  to  get  a  look  at 
him.  Say — the  next  time  you're  going  in  there,  don't  you 
reckon  you  could  spread  the  door  and — " 

"  No,  indeedy  !  He's  always  behind  it.  He  would  block 
that  game." 

Tom  studied  over  it,  and  then  he  says : 

"  Looky  here.  You  lend  me  your  apern  and  let  me  take 
him  his  breakfast  in  the  morning.  I'll  give  you  a  quar 
ter." 

The  boy  was  plenty  willing  enough,  if  the  head  steward 
wouldn't  mind.  Tom  says  that's  all  right,  he  reckoned  he 
could  fix  it  with  the  head  steward ;  and  he  done  it.  He 


123 

fixed  it  so  as  we  could  both  go  in  with  aperns  on  and  toting 
vittles. 

He  didn't  sleep  much,  he  was  in  such  a  sweat  to  get  in 
there  and  find  out  the  mystery  about  Phillips ;  and  more 
over  he  done  a  lot  of  guessing  about  it  all  night,  which 
warn't  no  use,  for  if  you  are  going  to  find  out  the  facts  of  a 
thing,  what's  the  sense  in  guessing  out  what  ain't  the  facts 
and  wasting  ammunition  ?  I  didn't  lose  no  sleep.  I  would 
n't  give  a  dern  to  know  what's  the  matter  of  Phillips,  I  says 
to  myself. 

Well,  in  the  morning  we  put  on  the  aperns  and  got  a 
couple  of  trays  of  truck,  and  Tom  he  knocked  on  the  door. 
The  man  opened  it  a  crack,  and  then  he  let  us  in  and  shut 
it  quick.  By  Jackson,  when  we  got  a  sight  of  him,  we  'most 
dropped  the  trays  !  and  Tom  says  : 

"  Why,  Jubiter  Dunlap,  where'd  you  come  from  ?" 

Well,  the  man  was  astonished,  of  course ;  and  first  off  he 
looked  like  he  didn't  know  whether  to  be  scared,  or  glad,  or 
both,  or  which,  but  finally  he  settled  down  to  being  glad ; 
and  then  his  color  come  back,  though  at  first  his  face  had 
turned  pretty  white.  So  we  got  to  talking  together  while 
he  et  his  breakfast.  And  he  says  : 

"  But  I  ain't  Jubiter  Dunlap.  I'd  just  as  soon  tell  you 
who  I  am,  though,  if  you'll  swear  to  keep  mum,  for  I  ain't 
no  Phillips,  either." 

Tom  says  : 

"  We'll  keep  mum,  but  there  ain't  any  need  to  tell  who 
you  are  if  you  ain't  Jubiter  Dunlap." 

"  Why  ?" 

"Because  if  you  ain't  him  you're  t'other  twin,  Jake. 
You're  the  spit'n  image  of  Jubiter." 

"  Well,  I  am  Jake.  But  looky  here,  how  do  you  come  to 
know  us  Dunlaps  ?" 

Tom  told  about  the  adventures  we'd  had  down  there  at 


124 

His  lihcle  Silas's  last  summer,  and  when  he  see  that  there 
warn't  anything  about  his  folks  —  or  him  either,  for  that 
iirtatter — that  we  didn't  know,  he  opened  out  and  talked  per 
fectly  free  and  candid.  He  never  made  any  bones  about 
His  own  case ;  said  he'd  been  a  hard  lot,  was  a  hard  lot  yet, 
and  reckoned  he'd  be  a  hard  lot  plumb  to  the  end.  He 
said  of  course  it  was  a  dangerous  life,  and — 

He  give  a  kind  of  gasp,  and  set  his  head  like  a  person 
that's  listening.  We  didn't  say  anything,  and  so  it  was  very 
still  for  a  second  or  so,  and  there  warn't  no  sounds  but  the 
screaking  of  the  wood-work  and  the  chug-chugging  of  the 
machinery  down  below. 

Then  we  got  him  comfortable  again,  telling  him  about 
his  people,  and  how  Brace's  wife  had  been  dead  three  years, 
and  Brace  wanted  to  marry  Benny  and  she  shook  him,  and 
Jubiter  was  working  for  Uncle  Silas,  and  him  and  Uncle 
Silas  quarrelling  all  the  time  —  and  then  he  let  go  and 
laughed. 

"  Land  !"  he  says,  "  it's  like  old  times  to  hear  all  this  tit 
tle-tattle,  and  does  me  good.  It's  been  seven  years  and 
more  since  I  heard  any.  How  do  they  talk  about  me  these 
days  ?" 

"  Who  ?" 

"  The  farmers— and  the  family." 

"  Why,  they  don't  talk  about  you  at  all — at  least  only 
just  a  mention,  once  in  a  long  time." 

"  The  nation  !"  he  says,  surprised  ;   "  why  is  that  ?" 

"  Because  they  think  you  are  dead  long  ago." 

"No!  Are  you  speaking  true?  —  honor  bright,  now." 
He  jumped  up,  excited. 

"  Honor  bright.  There  ain't  anybody  thinks  you  are 
alive." 

"  Then  I'm  saved,  I'm  saved,  sure  !  I'll  go  home. 
They'll  hide  me  and  s*ve  my  life,  You  keep  mum,  Swear 


125 

you'll  keep  mum  —  swear  you'll  never,  never  tell  on  me. 
Oh,  boys,  be  good  to  a  poor  devil  that's  being  hunted  day 
and  night,  and  dasn't  show  his  face  !  I've  never  done  you 
any  harm  ;  I'll  never  do  you  any,  as  God  is  in  the  heavens  ; 
swear  you'll  be  good  to  me  and  help  me  save  my  life." 

We'd  a  swore  it  if  he'd  been  a  dog ;  and  so  we  done  it. 
Well,  he  couldn't  love  us  enough  for  it  or  be  grateful 
enough,  poor  cuss  ;  it  was  all  he  could  do  to  keep  from 
hugging  us. 

We  talked  along,  and  he  got  out  a  little  hand-bag  and  be-' 
gun  to  open  it,  and  told  us  to  turn  our  backs.  We  done  it, 
and  when  he  told  us  to  turn  again  he  was  perfectly  different 
to  what  he  was  before.  He  had  on  blue  goggles  and  the 
naturalest-looking  long  brown  whiskers  and  mustashes  you 
ever  see.  His  own  mother  wouldn't  'a'  knowed  him.  He 
asked  us  if  he  looked  like  his  brother  Jubiter,  now. 

"No,"  Tom  said;  "there  ain't  anything  left  that's  like; 
him  except  the  long  hair." 

"All  right,  I'll  get  that  cropped  close  to  my  head  before 
I  get  there ;  then  him  and  Brace  will  keep  my  secret,  and 
I'll  live  with  them  as  being  a  stranger,  and  the  neighbors 
won't  ever  guess  me  out.  What  do  you  think  ?" 

Tom  he  studied  a  while,  then  he  says : 

"  Well,  of  course  me  and  Huck  are  going  to  keep  mum 
there,  but  if  you  don't  keep  mum  yourself  there's  going 
to  be  a  little  bit  of  a  risk — it  ain't  much,  maybe,  but  it's  a 
little.  I  mean,  if  you  talk,  won't  people  notice  that  your 
voice  is  just  like  Jubiter's;  and  mightn't  it  make  them 
think  of  the  twin  they  reckoned  was  dead,  but  maybe  after 
all  was  hid  all  this  time  under  another  name  ?"  _  ^V 

^  "  By  George,"  he   says,  "  you're  a  sharp  one  !     You're  \ 
perfectly  right.      I've   got  to  play  deef  and  dumb  when'" 
there's  a  neighbor  around.     If  I'd  a  struck  for  home  and 
forgot  that  little  detail—     However,  I  wasn't  striking  for 


126 


home.  I  was  breaking  for  any  place  where  I  could  get 
away  from  these  fellows  that  are  after  me ;  then  I  was 
going  to  put  on  this  disguise  and  get  some  different  clothes, 
and—" 

He  jumped  for  the  outside  door  and  laid  his  ear  against 
it  and  listened,  pale  and  kind  of  panting.  Presently  he 
whispers : 

"  Sounded  like  cocking  a  gun !  Lord,  what  a  life  to 
lead  !" 

Then  he  sunk  down  in  a  chair  all  limp  and  sick  like,  and 
wiped  the  sweat  off  of  his  face. 


SOUNDED   LIKE   COCKING   A   GUN!' 


CHAPTER   III 

FROM  that  time  out,  we  was  with  him  'most  all  the  time, 
and  one  or  t'other  of  us  slept  in  his  upper  berth.  He 
said  he  had  been  so  lonesome,  and  it  was  such  a  comfort 
to  him  to  have  company,  and  somebody  to  talk  to  in  his 
troubles.  We  was  in  a  sweat  to  find  out  what  his  secret 
was,  but  Tom  said  the  best  way  was  not  to  seem  anxious, 
then  likely  he  would  drop  into  it  himself  in  one  of  his  talks, 
but  if  we  got  to  asking  questions  he  would  get  suspicious 
and  shet  up  his  shell.  It  turned  out  just  so.  It  warn't 
no  trouble  to  see  that  he  wanted  to  talk  about  it,  but  al 
ways  along  at  first  he  would  scare  away  from  it  when  he 
got  on  the  very  edge  of  it,  and  go  to  talking  about  some 
thing  else.  The  way  it  come  about  was  this :  He  got  to 
asking  us,  kind  of  indifferent  like,  about  the  passengers 
down  on  deck.  We  told  him  about  them.  But  he  warn't 
satisfied ;  we  warn't  particular  enough.  He  told  us  to 
describe  them  better.  Tom  done  it.  At  last,  when  Tom 
was  describing  one  of  the  roughest  and  raggedest  ones,  he 
gave  a  shiver  and  a  gasp  and  says : 

"  Oh,  lordy,  that's  one  of  them  !  They're  aboard  sure — 
I  just  knowed  it.  I  sort  of  hoped  I  had  got  away,  but  I 
never  believed  it.  Go  on." 

Presently  when  Tom  was  describing  another  mangy,  rough 
deck  passenger,  he  give  that  shiver  again  and  says — 

"  That's  him ! — that's  the  other  one.  If  it  would  only 
come  a  good  black  stormy  night  and  I  could  get  ashore. 
You  see,  they've  got  spies  on  me.  They've  got  a  right  to 

9T8 


128 


come  up  and  buy  drinks  at  the  bar  yonder  forrard,  and  they 
take  that  chance  to  bribe  somebody  to  keep  watch  on  me — 
porter  or  boots  or  somebody.  If  I  was  to  slip  ashore  without 
anybody  seeing  me,  they  would  know  it  inside  of  an  hour." 

So  then  he  got  to  wandering  along,  and  pretty  soon, 
sure  enough,  he  was  telling !  He  was  poking  along  through 
his  ups  and  downs,  and  when  he  come  to  that  place  he 
went  right  along.  He  says  : 

"  It  was  a  confidence  game.  We  played  it  on  a  julery- 
shop  in  St.  Louis.  What  we  was  after  was  a  couple  of 
noble  big  di'monds  as  big  as  a  hazel-nuts,  which  everybody 
was  running  to  see.  We  was  dressed  up  fine,  and  we 
played  it  on  them  in  broad  daylight.  We  ordered  the 
di'monds  sent  to  the  hotel  for  us  to  see  if  we  wanted  to  buy, 
and  when  we  was  examining  them  we  had  paste  counterfeits 
all  ready,  and  them  was  the  things  that  went  back  to  the 
shop  when  we  said  the  water  wasn't  quite  fine  enough  for 
twelve  thousand  dollars." 

"  Twelve— thousand  —  dollars  !"  Tom  says.  "Was  they 
really  worth  all  that  money,  do  you  reckon  ?" 

"  Every  cent  of  it." 

"  And  you  fellows  got  away  with  them  ?" 

"As  easy  as  nothing.  I  don't  reckon  the  julery  people 
know  they've  been  robbed  yet.  But  it  wouldn't  be  good 
sense  to  stay  around  St.  Louis,  of  course,  so  we  considered 
where  we'd  go.  One  was  for  going  one  way,  one  another, 
so  we  throwed  up,  heads  or  tails,  and  the  Upper  Mississippi 
won.  We  done  up  the  di'monds  in  a  paper  and  put  our 
names  on  it  and  put  it  in  the  keep  of  the  hotel  clerk,  and 
told  him  not  to  ever  let  either  of  us  have  it  again  without 
the  others  was  on  hand  to  see  it  done ;  then  we  went  down 
town,  each  by  his  own  self — because  I  reckon  maybe  we  all 
had  the  same  notion.  I  don't  know  for  certain,  but  I 
reckon  maybe  we  had." 


"9 

"  What  notion  ?"  Tom  says. 

"  To  rob  the  others." 

"  What— one  take  everything,  after  all  of  you  had  helped 
to  get  it  ?" 

"  Cert'nly." 

It  disgusted  Tom  Sawyer,  and  he  said  it  was  the  orneri- 
est,  low-downest  thing  he  ever  heard  of.  But  Jake  Dunlap 
said  it  warn't  unusual  in  the  profession.  Said  when  a  per 
son  was  in  that  line  of  business  he'd  got  to  look  out  for  his 
own  intrust,  there  warn't  nobody  else  going  to  do  it  for 
him.  And  then  he  went  on.  He  says  : 

"  You  see,  the  trouble  was,  you  couldn't  divide  up  two 
di'monds  amongst  three.  If  there'd  been  three —  But 
never  mind  about  that,  there  warrft  three.  I  loafed  along 
the  back  streets  studying  and  studying.  And  I  says  to 
myself,  I'll  hog  them  di'monds  the  first  chance  I  get,  and 
I'll  have  a  disguise  all  ready,  and  I'll  give  the  boys  the 
slip,  and  when  I'm  safe  away  I'll  put  it  on,  and  then  let 
them  find  me  if  they  can.  So  I  got  the  false  whiskers  and 
the  goggles  and  this  countrified  suit  of  clothes,  and  fetched 
them  along  back  in  a  hand-bag ;  and  when  I  was  passing 
a  shop  where  they  sell  all  sorts  of  things,  I  got  a  glimpse 
of  one  of  my  pals  through  the  window.  It  was  Bud  Dixon. 
I  was  glad,  you  bet.  I  says  to  myself,  I'll  see  what  he 
buys.  So  I  kept  shady,  and  watched.  Now  what  do  you 
reckon  it  was  he  bought  ?" 

"  Whiskers  ?"  said  I. 

';No." 

"Goggles?" 

"No." 

"  Oh,  keep  still,  Huck  Finn,  can't  you,  you're  only  just 
hendering  all  you  can.  What  was  it  he  bought,  Jake  ?" 

"  You'd  never  guess  in  the  world.  It  was  only  just  a 
screw-driver — just  a  wee  little  bit  of  a  screw-driver." 


130 

"  Well,  I  declare  !  What  did  he  want  with  that  ?" 
"  That's  what  /  thought.  It  was  curious.  It  clean 
stumped  me.  I  says  to  myself,  what  can  he  want  with  that 
thing  ?  Well,  when  he  come  out  I  stood  back  out  of  sight, 
and  then  tracked  him  to  a  second-hand  slop-shop  and  see 
him  buy  a  red  flannel  shirt  and  some  old  ragged  clothes — 
just  the  ones  he's  got  on  now,  as  you've  described.  Then 
I  went  down  to  the  wharf  and  hid  my  things  aboard  the 
up-river  boat  that  we  had  picked  out,  and  then  started  back 
and  had  another  streak  of  luck.  I  seen  our  other  pal  lay 
in  his  stock  of  old  rusty  second -handers.  We  got  the 
di'monds  and  went  aboard  the  boat. 

"  But  now  we  was  up  a  stump,  for  we  couldn't  go  to  bed. 
We  had  to  set  up  and  watch  one  another.  Pity,  that  was ; 
pity  to  put  that  kind  of  a  strain  on  us,  because  there  was 
bad  blood  between  us  from  a  couple  of  weeks  back,  and  we 
was  only  friends  in  the  way  of  business.  Bad  anyway,  see 
ing  there  was  only  two  di'monds  betwixt  three  men.  First 
we  had  supper,  and  then  tramped  up  and  down  the  deck 
together  smoking  till  most  midnight ;  then  we  went  and  set 
down  in  my  state-room  and  locked  the  doors  and  looked 
in  the  piece  of  paper  to  see  if  the  di'monds  was  all  right, 
then  laid  it  on  the  lower  berth  right  in  full  sight ;  and  there 
we  set,  and  set,  and  by-and-by  it  got  to  be  dreadful  hard  to 
keep  awake.  At  last  Bud  Dixon  he  dropped  off.  As  soon 
as  he  was  snoring  a  good  regular  gait  that  was  likely  to 
last,  and  had  his  chin  on  his  breast  and  looked  permanent, 
Hal  Clayton  nodded  towards  the  di'monds  and  then  tow 
ards  the  outside  door,  and  I  understood.  I  reached  and 
got  the  paper,  and  then  we  stood  up  and  waited  perfectly 
still;  Bud  never  stirred;  I  turned  the  key  of  the  outside 
door  very  soft  and  slow,  then  turned  the  knob  the  same 
way,  and  we  went  tiptoeing  out  onto  the  guard,  and  shut 
the  door  very  soft  and  gentle. 


"  There  warn't  nobody  stirring  anywhere,  and  the  boat 
was  slipping  along,  swift  and  steady,  through  the  big  water 
in  the  smoky  moonlight.  We  never  said  a  word,  but  went 
straight  up  onto  the  hurricane-deck  and  plumb  back  aft, 
and  set  down  on  the  end  of  the  skylight.  Both  of  us 
knowed  what  that  meant,  without  having  to  explain  to  one 
another.  Bud  Dixon  would  wake  up  and  miss  the  swag, 
and  would  come  straight  for  us,  for  he  ain't  afeard  of  any 
thing  or  anybody,  that  man  ain't.  He  would  come,  and  we 
would  heave  him  overboard,  or  get  killed  trying.  It  made 
me  shiver,  because  I  ain't  as  brave  as  some  people,  but  if  I 
showed  the  white  feather — well,  I  knowed  better  than  do 
that.  I  kind  of  hoped  the  boat  would  land  somers,  and  we 
could  skip  ashore  and  not  have  to  run  the  risk  of  this  row, 
I  was  so  scared  of  Bud  Dixon,  but  she  was  an  upper-river 
tub  and  there  warn't  no  real  chance  of  that. 

"  Well,  the  time  strung  along  and  along,  and  that  fellow 
never  come  !  Why,  it  strung  along  till  dawn  begun  to 
break,  and  still  he  never  come.  '  Thunder,'  I  says,  '  what 
do  you  make  out  of  this  ? — ain't  it  suspicious  ?'  *  Land  !' 
Hal  says,  '  do  you  reckon  he's  playing  us  ?  —  open  the 
paper  !'  I  done  it,  and  by  gracious  there  warn't  anything 
in  it  but  a  couple  of  little  pieces  of  loaf-sugar!  That's 
the  reason  he  could  set  there  and  snooze  all  night  so  com 
fortable.  Smart?  Well,  I  reckon!  He  had  had  them 
two  papers  all  fixed  and  ready,  and  he  had  put  one  of 
them  in  place  of  t'other  right  under  our  noses. 

"  We  felt  pretty  cheap.  But  the  thing  to  do,  straight  off, 
was  to  make  a  plan  ;  and  we  done  it.  We  would  do  up  the 
paper  again,  just  as  it  was,  and  slip  in,  very  elaborate  and 
soft,  and  lay  it  on  the  bunk  again,  and  let  on  we  didn't  know 
about  any  trick,  and  hadn't  any  idea  he  was  a-laughing  at 
us  behind  them  bogus  snores  of  his'n ;  and  we  would  stick 
by  him,  and  the  first  night  we  was  ashore  we1  would  get  him 


drunk  and  search  him,  and  get  the  diamonds;  and  do  for 
him,  too,  if  it  warn't  too  risky.  If  we  got  the  swag,  we'd  got 
to  do  for  him,  or  he  would  hunt  us  down  and  do  for  us, 
sure.  But  I  didn't  have  no  real  hope.  I  knowed  we  could 
get  him  drunk — he  was  always  ready  for  that — but  what's 
the  good  of  it?  You  might  search  him  a  year  and  never 
find— 

"  Well,  right  there  I  catched  my  breath  and  broke  off  my 
thought !  For  an  idea  went  ripping  through  my  head  that 
tore  my  brains  to  rags — and  land,  but  I  felt  gay  and  good  ! 
You  see,  I  had  had  my  boots  off,  to  unswell  my  feet,  and 
just  then  I  took  up  one  of  them  to  put  it  on,  and  I  catched 
a  glimpse  of  the  heel-bottom,  and  it  just  took  my  breath 
away.  You  remember  about  that  puzzlesome  little  screw 
driver  ?" 

"  You  bet  I  do,"  says  Tom,  all  excited. 

"  Well,  when  I  catched  that  glimpse  of  that  boot  heel, 
the  idea  that  went  smashing  through  my  head  was,  /  know 
where  he's  hid  the  di'monds !  You  look  at  this  boot  heel, 
now.  See,  it's  bottomed  with  a  steel  plate,  and  the  plate 
is  fastened  on  with  little  screws.  Now  there  wasn't  a  screw 
about  that  feller  anywhere  but  in  his  boot  heels  ;  so,  if  he 
needed  a  screw-driver,  I  reckoned  I  knowed  why." 

"  Huck,  ain't  it  bully !"  says  Tom. 

"  Well,  I  got  my  boots  on,  and  we  went  down  and  slipped 
in  and  laid  the  paper  of  sugar  on  the  berth,  and  sat  down 
soft  and  sheepish  and  went  to  listening  to  Bud  Dixon 
snore.  Hal  Clayton  dropped  off  pretty  soon,  but  I  didn't ; 
I  wasn't  ever  so  wide-awake  in  my  life.  I  was  spying  out 
from  under  the  shade  of  my  hat  brim,  searching  the  floor 
for  leather.  It  took  me  a  long  time,  and  I  begun  to  think 
maybe  my  guess  was  wrong,  but  at  last  I  struck  it.  It  laid 
over  by  the  bulkhead,  and  was  nearly  the  color  of  the 
carpet.  It  was  a  little  round  plug  about  as  thick  as  the  end 


133 

of  your  little  finger,  and  I  says  to  myself  there's  a  di'mond 
in  the  nest  you've  come  from.  Before  long  I  spied  out  the 
plug's  mate. 

"  Think  of  the  smartness  and  coolness  of  that  blather 
skite  !  He  put  up  that  scheme  on  us  and  reasoned  out  what 
we  would  do,  and  we  went  ahead  and  done  it  perfectly 
exact,  like  a  couple  of  pudd'n  heads.  He  set  there  and 
took  his  own  time  to  unscrew  his  heel-plates  and  cut  out 
his  plugs  and  stick  in  the  di'monds  and  screw  on  his  plates 
again.  He  allowed  we  would  steal  the  bogus  swag  and 
wait  all  night  for  him  to  come  up  and  get  drownded,  and  by 
George  it's  just  what  we  done  !  /  think  it  was  powerful 
smart." 

"  You  bet  your  life  it  was !"  says  Tom,  just  full  of  ad 
miration. 


CHAPTER   IV 

"  WELL,  all  day  we  went  through  the  humbug  of  watching 
one  another,  and  it  was  pretty  sickly  business  for  two  of  us 
and  hard  to  act  out,  I  can  tell  you.  About  night  we  landed 
at  one  of  them  little  Missouri  towns  high  up  toward  Iowa, 
and  had  supper  at  the  tavern,  and  got  a  room  upstairs  with 
a  cot  and  a  double  bed  in  it,  but  I  dumped  my  bag  under 
a  deal  table  in  the  dark  hall  whilst  we  was  moving  along  it 
to  bed,  single  file,  me  last,  and  the  landlord  in  the  lead  with 
a  tallow  candle.  We  had  up  a  lot  of  whiskey,  and  went  to 
playing  high-low-jack  for  dimes,  and  as  soon  as  the  whis 
key  begun  to  take  hold  of  Bud  we  stopped  drinking,  but 
we  didn't  let  him  stop.  We  loaded  him  till  he  fell  out  of 
his  chair  and  laid  there  snoring. 

"  We  was  ready  for  business  now.  I  said  we  better  pull 
our  boots  off,  and  his'n  too,  and  not  make  any  noise,  then 
we  could  pull  him  and  haul  him  around  and  ransack  him 
without  any  trouble.  So  we  done  it.  I  set  my  boots  and 
Bud's  side  by  side,  where  they'd  be  handy.  Then  we 
stripped  him  and  searched  his  seams  and  his  pockets  and 
his  socks  and  the  inside  of  his  boots,  and  everything,  and 
searched  his  bundle.  Never  found  any  di'monds.  We 
found  the  screw-driver,  and  Hal  says,  '  What  do  you  reckon 
he  wanted  with  that  ?'  I  said  I  didn't  know ;  but  when  he 
wasn't  looking  I  hooked  it.  At  last  Hal  he  looked  beat  and 
discouraged,  and  said  we'd  got  to  give  it  up.  That  was 
what  I  was  waiting  for.  I  says  : 

" '  There's  one  place  we  hain't  searched.' 


135 


"  '  What  place  is  that  ?'  he  says. 

"'His  stomach.' 

"  '  By  gracious,  I  never  thought  of  that !  Now  we're  on 
the  homestretch,  to  a  dead  moral  certainty.  How'll  we 
manage  ?' 

"  '  Well,'  I  says,  '  just  stay  by  him  till  I  turn  out  and  hunt 
up  a  drug-store,  and  I  reckon  I'll  fetch  something  that'll 
make  them  di'monds  tired  of  the  company  they're  keep 
ing.' 

"  He  said  that's  the  ticket,  and  with  him  looking  straight 
at  me  I  slid  myself  into  Bud's  boots  instead  of  my  own,  and 
he  never  noticed.  They  was  just  a  shade  large  for  me,  but 
that  was  considerable  better  than  being  too  small.  I  got 
my  bag  as  I  went  a-groping  through  the  hall,  and  in  about 
a  minute  I  was  out  the  back  way  and  stretching  up  the 
river  road  at  a  five-mile  gait. 

"  And  not  feeling  so  very  bad,  neither — walking  on  di' 
monds  don't  have  no  such  effect.  When  I  had  gone  fifteen 
minutes  I  says  to  myself,  there's  more'n  a  mile  behind  me, 
and  everything  quiet.  Another  five  minutes  and  I  says 
there's  considerable  more  land  behind  me  now,  and  there's 
a  man  back  there  that's  begun  to  wonder  what's  the  trouble. 
Another  five  and  I  says  to  myself  he's  getting  real  uneasy 
— he's  walking  the  floor  now.  Another  five,  and  I  says  to 
myself,  there's  two  mile  and  a  half  behind  me,  and  he's 
awful  uneasy — beginning  to  cuss,  I  reckon.  Pretty  soon  I 
says  to  myself,  forty  minutes  gone — he  knows  there's  some 
thing  up  !  Fifty  minutes— the  truth's  a-busting  on  him  now ! 
he  is  reckoning  I  found  the  di'monds  whilst  we  was  search 
ing,  and  shoved  them  in  my  pocket  and  never  let  on — yes, 
and  he's  starting  out  to  hunt  for  me.  He'll  hunt  for  new 
tracks  in  the  dust,  and  they'll  as  likely  send  him  down  the 
river  as  up. 

"Just  then  I  see  a  man  coming  down  on  a  mule,  and  be- 


136 

fore  I  thought  I  jumped  into  the  bush.  It  was  stupid  !  When 
he  got  abreast  he  stopped  and  waited  a  little  for  me  to 
come  out ;  then  he  rode  on  again.  But  I  didn't  feel  gay 
any  more.  I  says  to  myself  I've  botched  my  chances  by 
that ;  I  surely  have,  if  he  meets  up  with  Hal  Clayton. 

"  Well,  about  three  in  the  morning  I  fetched  Elexandria 
and  see  this  stern-wheeler  laying  there,  and  was  very  glad, 
because  I  felt  perfectly  safe,  now,  you  know.  It  was  just 
daybreak.  I  went  aboard  and  got  this  state-room  and  put 
on  these  clothes  and  went  up  in  the  pilot-house — to  watch, 
though  I  didn't  reckon  there  was  any  need  of  it.  I  set  there 
and  played  with  my  di'monds  and  waited  and  waited  for  the 
boat  to  start,  but  she  didn't.  You  see,  they  was  mending  her 
machinery,  but  I  didn't  know  anything  about  it,  not  being 
very  much  used  to  steamboats. 

"  Well,  to  cut  the  tale  short,  we  never  left  there  till  plumb 
noon  ;  and  long  before  that  I  was  hid  in  this  state-room ; 
for  before  breakfast  I  see  a  man  coming,  away  off,  that  had 
a  gait  like  Hal  Clayton's,  and  it  made  me  just  sick.  I  says 
to  myself,  if  he  finds  out  I'm  aboard  this  boat,  he's  got  me 
like  a  rat  in  a  trap.  All  he's  got  to  do  is  to  have  me 
watched,  and  wait — wait  till  I  slip  ashore,  thinking  he  is  a 
thousand  miles  away,  then  slip  after  me  and  dog  me  to  a 
good  place  and  make  me  give  up  the  di'monds,  and  then 
he'll — oh,  /  know  what  he'll  do  !  Ain't  it  awful — awful ! 
And  now  to  think  the  other  one's  aboard,  too  !  Oh,  ain't  it 
hard  luck,  boys — ain't  it  hard  !  But  you'll  help  save  me, 
won't  you  ? — oh,  boys,  be  good  to  a  poor  devil  that's  being 
hunted  to  death,  and  save  me — I'll  worship  the  very  ground 
you  walk  on !" 

We  turned  in  and  soothed  him  down  and  told  him  we 
would  plan  for  him  and  help  him,  and  he  needn't  be  so 
afeard  ;  and  so  by-and-by  he  got  to  feeling  kind  of  comfort 
able  again,  and  unscrewed  his  heel-plates  and  held  up  his 


WALKED    ASHORE 


137 

di'monds  this  way  and  that,  admiring  them  and  loving  them  ; 
and  when  the  light  struck  into  them  they  was  beautiful, 
sure ;  why,  they  seemed  to  kind  of  bust,  and  snap  fire  out 
all  around.  But  all  the  same  I  judged  he  was  a  fool.  If  I 
had  been  him  I  would  a  handed  the  di'monds  to  them  pals 
and  got  them  to  go  ashore  and  leave  me  alone.  But  he  was 
made  different.  He  said  it  was  a  whole  fortune  and  he 
couldn't  bear  the  idea. 

Twice  we  stopped  to  fix  the  machinery  and  laid  a  good 
while,  once  in  the  night ;  but  it  wasn't  dark  enough,  and 
he  was  afeard  to  skip.  But  the  third  time  we  had  to  fix  it 
there  was  a  better  chance.  We  laid  up  at  a  country  wood- 
yard  about  forty  mile  above  Uncle  Silas's  place  a  little  after 
one  at  night,  and  it  was  thickening  up  and  going  to  storm. 
So  Jake  he  laid  for  a  chance  to  slide.  We  begun  to  take 
in  wood.  Pretty  soon  the  rain  come  a-drenching  down, 
and  the  wind  blowed  hard.  Of  course  every  boat-hand 
fixed  a  gunny  sack  and  put  it  on  like  a  bonnet,  the  way 
they  do  when  they  are  toting  wood,  and  we  got  one  for 
Jake,  and  he  slipped  down  aft  with  his  hand-bag  and  come 
tramping  forrard  just  like  the  rest,  and  walked  ashore  with 
them,  and  when  we  see  him  pass  out  of  the  light  of  the 
torch-basket  and  get  swallowed  up  in  the  dark,  we  got  our 
breath  again  and  just  felt  grateful  and  splendid.  But  it 
wasn't  for  long.  Somebody  told,  I  reckon  ;  for  in  about  eight 
or  ten  minutes  them  two  pals  come  tearing  forrard  as  tight 
as  they  could  jump  and  darted  ashore  and  was  gone.  We 
waited  plumb  till  dawn  for  them  to  come  back,  and  kept 
hoping  they  would,  but  they  never  did.  We  was  awful 
sorry  and  low-spirited.  All  the  hope  we  had  was  that 
Jake  had  got  such  a  start  that  they  couldn't  get  on  his 
track,  and  he  would  get  to  his  brother's  and  hide  there  and 
be  safe. 

He  was  going  to  take  the  river  road,  and  told  us  to  find 


out  if  Brace  and  Jubiter  was  to  home  and  no  strangers 
there,  and  then  slip  out  about  sundown  and  tell  him.  Said 
he  would  wait  for  us  in  a  little  bunch  of  sycamores  right 
back  of  Tom's  uncle  Silas's  tobacker-field  on  the  river 
road,  a  lonesome  place. 

We  set  and  talked  a  long  time  about  his  chances,  and 
Tom  said  he  was  all  right  if  the  pals  struck  up  the  river  in 
stead  of  down,  but  it  wasn't  likely,  because  maybe  they 
knowed  where  he  was  from ;  more  likely  they  would  go 
right,  and  dog  him  all  day,  him  not  suspecting,  and  kill 
him  when  it  come  dark,  and  take  the  boots.  So  we  was 
pretty  sorrowful. 


CHAPTER  V 

WE  didn't  get  done  tinkering  the  machinery  till  away 
late  in  the  afternoon,  and  so  it  was  so  close  to  sundown 
when  we  got  home  that  we  never  stopped  on  our  road,  but 
made  a  break  for  the  sycamores  as  tight  as  we  could  go,  to 
tell  Jake  what  the  delay  was,  and  have  him  wait  till  we 
could  go  to  Brace's  and  find  out  how  things  was  there.  It 
was  getting  pretty  dim  by  the  time  we  turned  the  corner  of 
the  woods,  sweating  and  panting  with  that  long  run,  and 
see  the  sycamores  thirty  yards  ahead  of  us  ;  and  just  then 
we  see  a  couple  of  men  run  into  the  bunch  and  heard  two 
or  three  terrible  screams  for  help.  "  Poor  Jake  is  killed, 
sure,"  we  says.  We  was  scared  through  and  through,  and 
broke  for  the  tobacker-field  and  hid  there,  trembling  so  our 
clothes  would  hardly  stay  on  ;  and  just  as  we  skipped  in 
there,  a  couple  of  men  went  tearing  by,  and  into  the  bunch 
they  went,  and  in  a  second  out  jumps  four  men  and  took 
out  up  the  road  as  tight  as  they  could  go,  two  chasing 
two. 

We  laid  down,  kind  of  weak  and  sick,  and  listened  for 
more  sounds,  but  didn't  hear  none  for  a  good  while  but 
just  our  hearts.  We  was  thinking  of  that  awful  thing  lay 
ing  yonder  in  the  sycamores,  and  it  seemed  like  being  that 
close  to  a  ghost,  and  it  give  me  the  cold  shudders.  The 
moon  come  a-swelling  up  out  of  the  ground,  now,  powerful 
big  and  round  and  bright,  behind  a  comb  of  trees,  like  a 
face  looking  through  prison  bars,  and  the  black  shadders 
and  white  places  begun  to  creep  around,  and  it  was  miser- 


able  quiet  and  still  and  night-breezy  and  graveyardy  and 
scary.  All  of  a  sudden  Tom  whispers? 

"  Look  !— what's  that?" 

"  Don't !"  I  says.  "  Don't  take  a  person  by  surprise  that 
way.  I'm  'most  ready  to  die,  anyway,  without  you  doing 
that." 

"Look,  I  tell  you.  It's  something  coming  out  of  the 
sycamores." 

"  Don't,  Tom  !" 

"  It's  terrible  tall !" 

"  Oh,  lordy-lordy !  let's—" 

"  Keep  still — it's  a-coming  this  way." 

He  was  so  excited  he  could  hardly  get  breath  enough  to 
whisper.  I  had  to  look.  I  couldn't  help  it.  So  now  we 
was  both  on  our  knees  with  our  chins  on  a  fence-rail  and 
gazing — yes,  and  gasping,  too.  It  was  coming  down  the 
road — coming  in  the  shadder  of  the  trees,  and  you  couldn't 
see  it  good ;  not  till  it  was  pretty  close  to  us  ;  then  it 
stepped  into  a  bright  splotch  of  moonlight  and  we  sunk 
right  down  in  our  tracks  —  it  was  Jake  Dunlap's  ghost ) 
That  was  what  we  said  to  ourselves. 

We  couldn't  stir  for  a  minute  or  two;  then  it  was  gone. 
We  talked  about  it  in  low  voices.  Tom  says  s 

"They're  mostly  dim  and  smoky,  or  like  they're  made 
out  of  fog,  but  this  one  wasn't." 

"  No,"  I  says;  "  I  seen  the  goggles  and  the  whiskers  per 
fectly  plain." 

"Yes,  and  the  very  colors  in  them  loud  countrified  Sun 
day  clothes — plaid  breeches,  green  and  black—" 

"  Cotton-velvet  westcot,  fire- red  and  yaller  squares — " 

"  Leather  straps  to  the  bottoms  of  the  breeches  legs  and 
one  of  them  hanging  unbuttoned — " 

"  Yes,  and  that  hat—" 

"What  a  hat  for  a  ghost  to  wear!" 


-V,. 


IT    WAS   JAKE    DUNLOP'S    GHOST 


You  see  it  was  the  first  season  anybody  wore  that  kind — 
a  black  stiff-brim  stove-pipe,  very  high,  and  not  smooth, 
with  a  round  top — just  like  a  sugar-loaf. 

"  Did  you  notice  if  its  hair  was  the  same,  Huck  ?" 

"  No — seems  to  me  I  did,  then  again  it  seems  to  me  I 
didn't." 

"I  didn't  either;  but  it  had  its  bag  along,  I  noticed 
that." 

"  So  did  I.     How  can  there  be  a  ghost-bag,  Tom  ?" 

"  Sho !  I  wouldn't  be  as  ignorant  as  that  if  I  was  you, 
Huck  Finn.  Whatever  a  ghost  has,  turns  to  ghost -stuff. 
They've  got  to  have  their  things,  like  anybody  else.  You 
see,  yourself,  that  its  clothes  was  turned  to  ghost -stuff. 
Well,  then,  what's  to  hender  its  bag  from  turning,  too  ? 
^f  course  it  done  it." 

That  was  reasonable.  I  couldn't  find  no  faulf  v/ith  it. 
Bill  Withers  and  his  brother  Jack  come  along  by,  talking, 
and  Jack  says: 

"  What  do  you  reckon  he  was  toting  ?" 

"I  dunno;  but  it  was  pretty  heavy." 

"Yes,  all  he  could  lug.  Nigger  stealing  corn  from  old 
Parson  Silas,  I  judged." 

"  So  did  I.  And  so  I  allowed  I  wouldn't  let  on  to  see 
him." 

"  That's  me,  too." 

Then  they  both  laughed,  and  went  on  out  of  hearing.  It 
showed  how  unpopular  old  Uncle  Silas  had  got  to  be,  now. 
They  wouldn't  'a'  let  a  nigger  steal  anybody  else's  corn  and 
never  done  anything  to  him. 

We  heard  some  more  voices  mumbling  along  towards  us 
and  getting  louder,  and  sometimes  a  cackle  of  a  laugh.  It 
was  Lem  Beebe  and  Jim  Lane.  Jim  Lane  says  ; 

«  Who  ?— Jubiter  Dunlap  ?" 

"Yes." 


142 


"  Oh,  I  don't  know.  I  reckon  so.  I  seen  him  spading 
up  some  ground  along  about  an  hour  ago,  just  before  sun 
down — him  and  the  parson.  Said  he  guessed  he  wouldn't 
go  to-night,  but  we  could  have  his  dog  if  we  wanted  him." 

"  Too  tired,  I  reckon." 

"  Yes— works  so  hard !" 

"  Oh,  you  bet !" 

They  cackled  at  that,  and  went  on  by.  Tom  said  we 
better  jump  out  and  tag  along  after  them,  because  they  was 
going  our  way  and  it  wouldn't  be  comfortable  to  run  across 
the  ghost  all  by  ourselves.  So  we  done  it,  and  got  home 
all  right. 

That  night  was  the  second  of  September — a  Saturday.  I 
sha'n't  ever  forget  it.  You'll  see  why,  pretty  soon. 


CHAPTER  VI 

WE  tramped  along  behind  Jim  and  Lem  till  we  come  to 
the  back  stile  where  old  Jim's  cabin  was  that  he  was  capti 
vated  in,  the  time  we  set  him  free,  and  here  come  the  dogs 
piling  around  us  to  say  howdy,  and  there  was  the  lights  of 
the  house,  too ;  so  we  warn't  afeard  any  more,  and  was  go 
ing  to  climb  over,  but  Tom  says: 

"  Hold  on  ;  set  down  here  a  minute.     By  George !" 

"What's  the  matter?"  says  I. 

"  Matter  enough  !"  he  says.  "  Wasn't  you  expecting  we 
would  be  the  first  to  tell  the  family  who  it  is  that's  been 
killed  yonder  in  the  sycamores,  and  all  about  them  rapscal 
lions  that  done  it,  and  about  the  di'monds  they've  smouched 
off  of  the  corpse,  and  paint  it  up  fine,  and  have  the  glory 
of  being  the  ones  that  knows  a  lot  more  about  it  than  any 
body  else  ?" 

"  Why,  of  course.  It  wouldn't  be  you,  Tom  Sawyer,  if 
you  was  to  let  such  a  chance  go  by.  I  reckon  it  ain't  going 
to  suffer  none  for  lack  of  paint,"  I  says,  "when  you  start  in 
to  scollop  the  facts." 

"Well,  now,"  he  says,  perfectly  ca'm,  "what  would  you 
say  if  I  was  to  tell  you  I  ain't  going  to  start  in  at  all  ?" 

I  was  astonished  to  hear  him  talk  so.     I  says : 

"  I'd  say  it's  a  lie.     You  ain't  in  earnest,  Tom  Sawyer." 

"  You'll  soon  see.     Was  the  ghost  barefooted  ?" 

"  No,  it  wasn't.     What  of  it  ?" 

"  You  wait — I'll  show  you  what.  Did  it  have  its  boots 
on?" 


144 

"  Yes.     I  seen  them  plain." 

"  Swear  it  ?" 

"  Yes,  I  swear  it." 

"  So  do  I.     Now  do  you  know  what  that  means  ?" 

"  No.     What  does  it  mean  ?" 

"  Means  that  them  thieves  didn't  get  the  dtmonds" 

11  Jimminy  !     What  makes  you  think  that  ?" 

"  I  don't  only  think  it,  I  know  it.  Didn't  the  breeches 
and  goggles  and  whiskers  and  hand-bag  and  every  blessed 
thing  turn  to  ghost-stuff  ?  Everything  it  had  on  turned, 
didn't  it  ?  It  shows  that  the  reason  its  boots  t^ned  too  was 
because  it  still  had  them  on  after  it  started  to  go  ha'nting 
around,  and  if  that  ain't  proof  that  them  blatherskites 
didn't  get  the  boots,  I'd  like  to  know  what  you'd  call 
f  proof." 

Think  of  that  now.  I  never  see  such  a  head  as  that  boy 
had.  Why,  /  had  eyes  and  I  could  see  things,  but  they 
;«r^c7  r  1  never  meant  nothing  to  me.  But  Tom  Sawyer  was  different. 
^  JL*\^  I  When  Tom  Sawyer  seen  a  thing  it  just  got  up  on  its  hind 
l  legs  and  talked  to  him  —  told  him  everything  it  knowed.  / 
never  see  such  a  head. 

"  Tom  Sawyer,"  I  says,  "  I'll  say  it  again  as  I've  said  it  a 
many  a  time  before  :  I  ain't  fitten  to  black  your  boots.    But 
that's  all   right—that's   neither  here    nor  there.     God   Al- 
mighty  made  us  all,  and  some  He  gives  eyes  that's  blind,: 
and  some  He  gives  eyes  that  can  see,  and  I  reckon  it  ain't 
none  of  our  lookout  what  He  done  it  for;   it's  all  right,  or; 
He'd  'a'  fixed  it  some  other  way.  Go  on  —  I  see  plenty  plain 
enough,  now,  that  them  thieves    didn't  get  way  with   the  j 
di'monds.     Why  didn't  they,  do  you  reckon  ?" 

"  Because  they  got  chased  away  by  them  other  two  men 
before  they  could  pull  the  boots  off  of  the  corpse." 

"  That's  so  !     I  see  it  now.     But  looky  here,  Tom,  why 
ain't  we  to  go  and  tell  about  it  ?" 


y 


j. 


WAS    THE    GHOST    BAREFOOTED  ?'  ''* 


145 

"  Oh,  shucks,  Huck  Finn,  can't  you  see  ?  Look  at  it. 
What's  a-going  to  happen  ?  There's  going  to  be  an  inquest 
in  the  morning.  Them  two  men  will  tell  how  they  heard 
the  yells  and  rushed  there  just  in  time  to  not  save  the 
stranger.  Then  the  jury  '11  twaddle  and  twaddle  and 
twaddle,  and  finally  they'll  fetch  in  a  verdict  that  he  got 
shot  or  stuck  or  busted  over  the  head  with  something,  and 
come  to  his  death  by  the  inspiration  of  God.  And  after 
they've  buried  him  they'll  auction  off  his  things  for  to  pay 
the  expenses,  and  then's  our  chance." 

"  How,  Tom  ?" 

"  Buy  the  boots  for  two  dollars  !" 

Well,  it  'most  took  my  breath. 

"  My  land  !     Why,  Tom,  we'll  get  the  di'monds  !" 

"  You  bet.  Some  day  there'll  be  a  big  reward  offered 
for  them  —  a  thousand  dollars,  sure.  That's  our  money! 
Now  we'll  trot  in  and  see  the  folks.  And  mind  you  we 
don't  know  anything  about  any  murder,  or  any  di'monds,  or 
any  thieves — don't  you  forget  that." 

I  had  to  sigh  a  little  over  the  way  he  had  got  it  fixed. 
/M  'a'  sold  them  di'monds  —  yes,  sir — for  twelve  thousand 
dollars  ;  but  I  didn't  say  anything.  It  wouldn't  done  any 
good.  I  says: 

"  But  what  are  we  going  to  tell  your  aunt  Sally  has  made 
us  so  long  getting  down  here  from  the  village,  Tom  ?" 

"Oh,  I'll  leave  that  to  you,"  he  says.  "  I  reckon  you  can 
explain  it  somehow." 

He  was  always  just  that  strict  and  delicate.  He  never 
would  tell  a  lie  himself. 

We  struck  across  the  big  yard,  noticing  this,  that,  and 
t'other  thing  that  was  so  familiar,  and  we  so  glad  to  see  it 
again,  and  when  we  got  to  the  roofed  big  passageway  be 
twixt  the  double  log  house  and  the  kitchen  part,  there  was 
everything  hanging  on  the  wall  just  as  it  used  to  was,  even 


146 

to  Uncle  Silas's  old  faded  green  baize  working-gown  with 
the  hood  to  it,  and  raggedy  white  patch  between  the  shoul 
ders  that  always  looked  like  somebody  had  hit  him  with  a 
snowball ;  and  then  we  lifted  the  latch  and  walked  in. 
Aunt  Sally  she  was  just  a-ripping  and  a-tearing  around,  and 
the  children  was  huddled  in  one  corner,  and  the  old  man 
he  was  huddled  in  the  other  and  praying  for  help  in  time 
of  need.  She  jumped  for  us  with  joy  and  tears  running 
down  her  face  and  give  us  a  whacking  box  on  the  ear,  and 
then  hugged  us  and  kissed  us  and  boxed  us  again,  and  just 
couldn't  seem  to  get  enough  of  it,  she  was  so  glad  to  see 
us  ;  and  she  says  - 

"  Where  have  you  been  a-loafmg  to,  you  good-for-nothing 
trash  !  I've  been  that  worried  about  you  I  didn't  know 
what  to  do.  Your  traps  has  been  here  ever  so  long,  and  I've 
had  supper  cooked  fresh  about  four  times  so  as  to  have  it 
hot  and  good  when  you  come,  till  at  last  my  patience  is  just 
plumb  wore  out,  and  I  declare  I — I — why  I  could  skin  you 
alive !  You  must  be  starving,  poor  things  !— set  down,  set 
down,  everybody ;  don't  lose  no  more  time." 

It  was  good  to  be  there  again  behind  all  that  noble  corn- 
pone  and  spareribs,  and  everything  that  you  could  ever 
want  in  this  world.  Old  Uncle  Silas  he  peeled  off  one  of 
his  bulliest  old-time  blessings,  with  as  many  layers  to  it  as 
an  onion,  and  whilst  the  angels  was  hauling  in  the  slack  of 
it  I  was  trying  to  study  up  what  to  say  about  what  kept  us 
so  long.  When  our  plates  was  all  leadened  and  we'd  got 
a-going,  she  asked  me,  and  I  says  : 

"Well,  you  see,— er — Mizzes — 

"  Huck  Finn  !  Since  when  am  I  Mizzes  to  you  ?  Have 
I  ever  been  stingy  of  cuffs  or  kisses  for  you  since  the  day 
you  stood  in  this  room  and  I  took  you  for  Tom  Sawyer  and 
blessed  God  for  sending  you  to  me,  though  you  told  me 
four  thousand  lies  and  I  believed  every  one  of  them  like 


H7 

a    simpleton  ?      Call    me    Aunt    Sally  —  like   you   always 
done." 

So  I  done  it.     And  I  says : 

"  Well,  me  and  Tom  allowed  we  would  come  along  afoot 
and  take  a  smell  of  the  woods,  and  we  run  across  Lem 
Beebe  and  Jim  Lane,  and  they  asked  us  to  go  with  them 
blackberrying  to-night,  and  said  they  could  borrow  Jubiter 
Dunlap's  dog,  because  he  had  told  them  just  that  minute — " 

"  Where  did  they  see  him  ?"  says  the  old  man  ;  and  when 
I  looked  up  to  see  how  tie  come  to  take  an  intrust  in  a  little 
thing  like  that,  his  eyes  was  just  burning  into  me,  he  was 
that  eager.  It  surprised  me  so  it  kind  of  throwed  me  off, 
but  I  pulled  myself  together  again  and  says : 

"  It  was  when  he  was  spading  up  some  ground  along 
with  you,  towards  sundown  or  along  there." 

He  only  said,  "  Um,"  in  a  kind  of  a  disappointed  way, 
and  didn't  take  no  more  intrust.  So  I  went  on.  I  says : 

"  Well,  then,  as  I  was  a-saying — " 

"  That  '11  do,  you  needn't  go  no  furder."  It  was  Aunt 
Sally.  She  was  boring  right  into  me  with  her  eyes,  and 
very  indignant.  "  Huck  Finn,"  she  says,  "  how'd  them 
men  come  to  talk  about  going  a-blackberrying  in  September 
— in  this  region  ?" 

I  see  I  had  slipped  up,  and  I  couldn't  say  a  word.     She  I  ^ 
waited,  still  a-gazing  at  me,  then  she  says  : 

"  And  how'd  they  come  to  strike  that  idiot  idea  of  going 
a-blackberrying  in  the  night?" 

"  Well,  m'm,  they — er — they  told  us  they  had  a  lantern, 
and—" 

"  Oh,  shet  up — do  !  Looky  here  ;  what  was  they  going  to 
do  with  a  dog  ? — hunt  blackberries  with  it  ?" 

"  I  think,  m'm,  they — "  .^_ 

"  Now,  Tom  Sawyer,  what  kind  of  a  lie  are  you  fixing 
your  mouth  to  contribit  to  this  mess  of  rubbage  ?  Speak  • 


148 

out — and  I  warn  you  before  you  begin,  that  I  don't  believe 
a  word  of  it.  You  and  Huck's  been  up  to  something  you 
no  business  to — 2  know  it  perfectly  well ;  /  know  you,  both 
of  you.  Now  you  explain  that  dog,  and  them  blackberries, 
and  the  lantern,  and  the  rest  of  that  rot — and  mind  you 
talk  as  straight  as  a  string — do  you  hear  ?" 

Tom  he  looked  considerable  hurt,  and  says,  very  dignified : 

"  It  is  a  pity  if  Huck  is  to  be  talked  to  that  away,  just 
for  making  a  little  bit  of  a  mistake  that  anybody  could  make." 

"  What  mistake  has  he  made  ?" 

"  Why,  only  the  mistake  of  saying  blackberries  when  of 
course  he  meant  strawberries." 

"Tom  Sawyer,  I  lay  if  you  aggravate  me  a  little  more, 
I'll—" 

"Aunt  Sally,  without  knowing  it — and  of  course  without 
intending  it — you  are  in  the  wrong.  If  you'd  'a'  studied 
natural  history  the  way  you  ought,  you  would  know  that  all 
over  the  world  except  just  here  in  Arkansaw  they  always 
hunt  strawberries  with  a  dog — and  a  lantern — " 

But  she  busted  in  on  him  there  and  just  piled  into  him  and 
snowed  him  under.  She  was  so  mad  she  couldn't  get  the 
words  out  fast  enough,  and  she  gushed  them  out  in  one  ever 
lasting  freshet.  That  was  what  Tom  Sawyer  was  after.  He 
allowed  to  work  her  up  and  get  her  started  and  then  leave 
her  alone  and  let  her  burn  herself  out.  Then  she  would 
be  so  aggravated  with  that  subject  that  she  wouldn't  say 
another  word  about  it,  nor  let  anybody  else.  Well,  it 
happened  just  so.  When  she  was  tuckered  out  and  had  to 
hold  up,  he  says,  quite  ca'm  : 

"And  yet,  all  the  same,  Aunt  Sally — " 

"  Shet  up!"  she  says,  "I  don't  want  to  hear  another 
word  out  of  you." 

So  we  was  perfectly  safe,  then,  and  didn't  have  no  more 
trouble  about  that  delay.  Tom  done  it  elegant. 


CHAPTER  VII 

BENNY  she  was  looking  pretty  sober,  and  she  sighed 
some,  now  and  then  ;  but  pretty  soon  she  got  to  asking 
about  Mary,  and  Sid,  and  Tom's  aunt  Polly,  and  then  Aunt 
Sally's  clouds  cleared  off  and  she  got  in  a  good  humor  and 
joined  in  on  the  questions  and  was  her  lovingest  best  self, 
and  so  the  rest  of  the  supper  went  along  gay  and  pleasant. 
But  the  old  man  he  didn't  take  any  hand  hardly,  and  was 
absent-minded  and  restless,  and  done  a  considerable  amount 
of  sighing;  and  it  was  kind  of  heart-breaking  to  see  him  so 
sad  and  troubled  and  worried. 

By-and-by,  a  spell  after  supper,  come  a  nigger  and  knocked 
on  the  door  and  put  his  head  in  with  his  old  straw  liat  in 
his  hand  bowing  and  scraping,  and  said  his  Marse  Brace 
was  out  at  the  stile  and  wanted  his  brother,  and  was  get 
ting  tired  waiting  supper  for  him,  and  would  Marse  Silas 
please  tell  him  where  he  was?  I  never  see  Uncle  Silas 
speak  up  so  sharp  and  fractious  before.  He  says  : 

"Am  /  his  brother's  keeper?"  And  then  he  kind  of 
wilted  together,  and  looked  like  he  wished  he  hadn't  spoken 
so,  and  then  he  says,  very  gentle :  "  But  you  needn't  say 
that,  Billy;  I  was  took  sudden  and  irritable,  and  I  ain't 
very  well  these  days,  and  not  hardly  responsible.  Tell  him 
he  ain't  here." 

And  when  the  nigger  was  gone  he  got  up  and  walked  the 
floor,  backwards  and  forwards,  mumbling  and  muttering  to 
himself  and  ploughing  his  hands  through  his  hair.  It  was 
real  pitiful  to  see  him.  Aunt  Sally  she  whispered  to  us 


150 

and  told  us  not  to  take  notice  of  him,  it  embarrassed  him. 
She  said  he  was  always  thinking  and  thinking,  since  these 
troubles  come  on,  and  she  allowed  he  didn't  more'n  about 
half  know  what  he  was  about  when  the  thinking  spells  was 
on  him;  and  she  said  he  walked  in  his  sleep  considerable 
more  now  than  he  used  to,  and  sometimes  wandered  around 
over  the  house  and  even  outdoors  in  his  sleep,  and  if  we 
catched  him  at  it  we  must  let  him  alone  and  not  disturb 
him.  She  said  she  reckoned  it  didn't  do  him  no  harm,  and 
may  be  it  done  him  good.  She  said  Benny  was  the  only 
one  that  was  much  help  to  him  these  days.  Said  Benny 
appeared  to  know  just  when  to  try  to  soothe  him  and  when 
to  leave  him  alone. 

So  he  kept  on  tramping  up  and  down  the  floor  and  mut 
teririg,  till  by-and-by  he  begun  to  look  pretty  tired ;  then 
Benny  she  went  and  snuggled  up  to  his  side  and  put  one 
hand  in  his  and  one  arm  around  his  waist  and  walked  with 
him  ;  and  he  smiled  down  on  her,  and  reached  down  and 
kissed  her ;  and  so,  little  by  little  the  trouble  went  out  of 
his  face  and  she  persuaded  him  off  to  his  room.  They  had 
very  petting  ways  together,  and  it  was  uncommon  pretty 
to  see. 

Aunt  Sally  she  was  busy  getting  the  children  ready  for 
bed;  so  by-and-by  it  got  dull  and  tedious,  and  me  and  Tom 
took  a  turn  in  the  moonlight,  and  fetched  up  in  the  water 
melon-patch  and  et  one,  and  had  a  good  deal  of  talk.  And 
Tom  said  he'd  bet  the  quarrelling  was  all  Jubiter's  fault,  and 
he  was  going  to  be  on  hand  the  first  time  he  got  a  chance, 
and  see ;  and  if  it  was  so,  he  was  going  to  do  his  level  best 
to  get  Uncle  Silas  to  turn  him  off. 

And  so  we  talked  and  smoked  and  stuffed  watermelon 
as  much  as  two  hours,  and  then  it  was  pretty  late,  and  when 
we  got  back  the  house  was  quiet  and  dark,  and  everybody 
gone  to  be4- 


"  SMOKED    AND    STUFFED    WATERMELON 


Tom  he  always  seen  everything,  and  now  he  see  that  the 
old  green  baize  work-gown  was  gone,  and  said  it 
gone  when  he  went  out;  and  so  we  allowed  it  was  curious, 
and  then  we  went  up  to  bed. 

We  could  hear  Benny  stirring  around  in  her  room,  which 
was  next  to  ourn,  and  judged  she  was  worried  a  good  deal 
about  her  father  and  couldn't  sleep.  We  found  we  couldn't, 
neither.  So  we  set  up  a  long  time,  and  smoked  and  talked 
in  a  low  voice,  and  felt  pretty  dull  and  down-hearted.  We 
talked  the  murder  and  the  ghost  over  and  over  again,  and 
got  so  creepy  and  crawly  we  couldn't  get  sleepy  nohow  and 
noway. 

By-and-by,  when  it  was  away  late  in  the  night  and  all  the 
sounds  was  late  sounds  and  solemn,  Tom  nudged  me  and 
whispers  to  me  to  look,  and  I  done  it,  and  there  we  see  a 
man  poking  around  in  the  yard  like  he  didn't  know  just 
what  he  wanted  to  do,  but  it  was  pretty  dim  and  we  couldn't 
see  him  good.  Then  he  started  for  the  stile,  and  as  he 
went  over  it  the  moon  came  out  strong,  and  he  had  a  long- 
handled  shovel  over  his  shoulder,  and  we  see  the  white 
patch  on  the  old  work-gown.  So  Tom  says: 

"  He's  a-walking  in  his  sleep.  I  wish  we  was  allowed  to 
follow  him  and  see  where  he's  going  to.  There,  he's  turned 
down  by  the  tobacker- field.  Out  of  sight  now.  It's  a 
dreadful  pity  he  can't  rest  no  better." 

We  waited  a  long  time,  but  he  didn't  come  back  any 
more,  or  if  he  did  he  come  around  the  other  way;  so  at 
last  we  was  tuckered  out  and  went  to  sleep  and  had  night 
mares,  a  million  of  them.  But  before  dawn  we  was  awake 
again,  because  meantime  a  storm  had  come  up  and  been 
raging,  and  the  thunder  and  lightning  was  awful,  and  the* 
wind  was  a-thrashing  the  trees  around,  and  the  rain  was 
driving  down  in  slanting  sheets,  and  the  gullies  was  running 
rivers.  Tom  says : 


152 

f  "  Looky  here,  Huck,  I'll  tell  you  one  thing  that's  mighty 
curious.^  Up  to  the  time  we  went  out,  last  night,  the  family 
feictift  heard  about  Jake  Dunlap  being  murdered.  Now 
the  men  that  chased  Hal  Clayton  and  Bud  Dixon  away 
would  spread  the  thing  around  in  a  half  an  hour,  and  every 
neighbor  that  heard  it  would  shin  out  and  fly  around  from 
one  farm  to  t'other  and  try  to  be  the  first  to  tell  the  news. 
Land,  they  don't  have  such  a  big  thing  as  that  to  tell  twice 
in  thirty  year !  Huck,  it's  mighty  strange ;  I  don't  under 
stand  it." 

'  So  then  he  was  in  a  fidget  for  the  rain  to  let  up,  so  we 
could  turn  out  and  run  across  some  of  the  people  and  see 
if  they  would  say  anything  about  it  to  us.  And  he  said  if 
they  did  we  must  be  horribly  surprised  and  shocked. 

We  was  out  and  gone  the  minute  the  rain  stopped.  It 
was  just  broad  day,  then.  We  loafed  along  up  the  road, 
and  now  and  then  met  a  person  and  stopped  and  said 
howdy,  and  told  them  when  we  come,  and  how  we  left  the 
folks  at  home,  and  how  long  we  was  going  to  stay,  and  all 
that,  but  none  of  them  said  a  word  about  that  thing ;  which 
was  just  astonishing,  and  no  mistake.  Tom  said  he  be 
lieved  if  we  went  to  the  sycamores  we  would  find  that  body 
laying  there  solitary  and  alone,  and  not  a  soul  around. 
Said  he  believed  the  men  chased  the  thieves  so  far  into  the 
wcods  that  the  thieves  prob'ly  seen  a  good  chance  and 
turned  on  them  at  last,  and  maybe  they  all  killed  each 
other,  and  so  there  wasn't  anybody  left  to  tell. 

First  we  knowed,  gabbling  along  that  away,  we  was  right 
at  the  sycamores.  The  cold  chills  trickled  down  my  back 
and  I  wouldn't  budge  another  step,  for  all  Tom's  persuad 
ing.  But  he  couldn't  hold  in  ;  he'd  got  to  see  if  the  boots 
was  safe  on  that  body  yet.  So  he  crope  in — and  the  next 
minute  out  he  come  again  with  his  eyes  bulging  he  was  so 
excited,  and  says  * 


153 

"  Huck,  it's  gone  !" 

I  was  astonished  !     I  says  : 

"  Tom,  you  don't  mean  it." 

"  It's  gone,  sure.  There  ain't  a  sign  of  it.  The  ground 
is  trampled  some,  but  if  there  was  any  blood  it's  all  washed 
away  by  the  storm,  for  it's  all  puddles  and  slush  in  there." 

At  last  I  give  in,  and  went  and  took  a  look  myself ;  and 
it  was  just  as  Tom  said — there  wasn't  a  sign  of  a  corpse. 

"  Bern  it,"  I  says,  "  the  diamonds  is  gone.  Don't  you 
reckon  the  thieves  slunk  back  and  lugged  him  off,  Tom  ?" 

"  Looks  like  it.  It  just  does.  Now  where'd  they  hide 
him,  do  you  reckon  ?" 

"I  don't  know,"  I  says,  disgusted,  "and  what's  more  I 
don't  care.  They've  got  the  boots,  and  that's  all  /  cared 
about.  He'll  lay  around  these  woods  a  long  time  before  / 
hunt  him  up." 

Tom  didn't  feel  no  more  intrust  in  him  neither,  only  curi 
osity  to  know  what  come  of  him ;  but  he  said  we'd  lay  low 
and  keep  dark  and  it  wouldn't  be  long  till  the  dogs  or  some 
body  rousted  him  out. 

We  went  back  home  to  breakfast  ever  so  bothered  and 
put  out  and  disappointed  and  swindled.  I  warn't  ever  so 
down  on  a  corpse  before. 


CHAPTER  VIII 

IT  warn't  very  cheerful  at  breakfast.  Aunt  Sally  she 
looked  old  and  tired  and  let  the  children  snarl  and  fuss  at 
one  another  and  didn't  seem  to  notice  it  was  going  on, 
which  wasn't  her  usual  style ;  me  and  Tom  had  a  plenty  to 
think  about  without  talking ;  Benny  she  looked  like  she 
hadn't  had  much  sleep,  and  whenever  she'd  lift  her  head  a 
little  and  steal  a  look  towards  her  father  you  could  see 
there  was  tears  in  her  eyes ;  and  as  for  the  old  man,  his 
things  stayed  on  his  plate  and  got  cold  without  him  know 
ing  they  was  there,  I  reckon,  for  he  was  thinking  and  think 
ing  all  the  time,  and  never  said  a  word  and  never  et  a  bite. 

By-and-by  when  it  was  stillest,  that  nigger's  head  was 
poked  in  at  the  door  again,  and  he  said  his  Marse  Brace 
was  getting  powerful  uneasy  about  Marse  Jubiter,  which 
hadn't  come  home  yet,  and  would  Marse  Silas  please — 

He  was  looking  at  Uncle  Silas,  and  he  stopped  there, 
like  the  rest  of  his  words  was  froze  :  for  Uncle  Silas  he  rose 
up  shaky  and  steadied  himself  leaning  his  fingers  on  the 
table,  and  he  was  panting,  ?nd  his  eyes  was  set  on  the  nig 
ger,  and  he  kept  swallowing,  and  put  his  other  hand  up  to 
his  throat  a  couple  of  times,  and  at  last  he  got  his  words 
started,  and  says ; 

"  Does  he — does  he — think — what  does  he  think  !  Tell 
him — tell  him —  Then  he  sunk  down  in  his  chair  limp 
and  weak,  and  says,  so  as  you  could  hardly  hear  him  :  "  Go 
away — go  away  !" 

The  nigger  looked  scared,  and  cleared  out,  and  we  all 


155 


felt— rwell,  I  don't  know  how  we  felt,  but  it  was  awful,  with 
the  old  man  panting  there,  and  his  eyes  set  and  looking 
like  a  person  that  was  dying.  None  of  us  could  budge; 
but  Benny  she  slid  around  soft,  with  her  tears  running 
down,  and  stood  by  his  side,  and  nestled  his  old  gray  head 
up  against  her  and  begun  to  stroke  it  and  pet  it  with  her 
hands,, and  nodded  to  us  to  go  away,  and  we  done  it,  going 
out  very  quiet,  like  the  dead  was  there,  ,^^^ 

Me  and  Tom  struck  out  for  the  woods  mighty  solemn, 
and  saying  how  different  it  was  now  to  what  it  was  last 
summer;  when,  we  was  here  and  everything  was  so  peaceful 
and  happy  and  everybody  thought  so  much  of  Uncle  Silas, 
and  he '.was  so  cheerful  and  simple-hearted  and  pudd'n- 
headed  and  good — and  now  look  at  him.  If  he  hadn't  lost 
his  mind  he  wasn't  much  short  of  it.  That  was  what  we 
allowed. 

It  was  a  most  lovely  day,  now,  and  bright  and  sunshiny; 
and  the  further  and  further  we  went  over  the  hill  towards 
the  prairie  the  lovelier  and  lovelier  the  trees  and  flowers 
got  to  be  and  the  more  it  seemed  strange  and  somehow 
wrong  that  there  had  to  be  trouble  in"  such  a  world  as  this. 
And  then  all  of  a  stKfcferf  T "catch ed  my  breath  and  grabbed 
Tom's  arm,  and  all  my  livers  and  lungs  and  things  fell 
down  into  my  legs. 

"There  it  is  !"  I  says.  We  jumped  back  behind  a  bush, 
shivering,  and  Tom  says: 

"'Sh  !— don't  make  a  neise." 

It  was  setting  on  a  log  right  in  the  edge  of  the  little 
prairie,  thinking.  I  tried  to  get  Tom  to  come  away,  but 
he  wouldn't,  and  I  dasn't  budge  by  myself.  He  said  we 
mightn't  ever  get  another  chance  to  see  one,  and  he  was 
going  to  look  his  fill  at  this  one  if  he  died  for  it.  So  I 
looked  too,  though  it  give  me  the  fan-tods  to  do  it.  Tom 
he  had  to  talk,  but  he  talked  low.  He  says  : 


156 

"  Poor  Jakey,  it's  got  all  its  things  on,  just  as  he  saJid  he 
would.  Now  you  see  what  we  wasn't  certain  about — its 
hair.  It's  not  long,  now,  the  way  it  was  ;  it's  got  it  crrjpped 
close  to  its  head,  the  way  he  said  he  would.  Huck,  I  never 
see  anything  look  any  more  naturaler  than  what  It  does." 

"  Nor  I  neither,"  I  says ;  "  I'd  recognize  it  anywheres." 

"So  would  I.  It  looks  perfectly  solid  and  germwyne, 
just  the  way  it  done  before  it  died." 

So  we  kept  a-gazing.     Pretty  soon  Tom  says : 

"  Huck,  there's  something  mighty  curious  about  this  one, 
don't  you  know?  //  oughtn't  to  be  going  around  in  the 
daytime." 

"  That's  so,  Tom — I  never  heard  the  like  of  i*  before." 

"  No,  sir,  they  don't  ever  come  out  only  at  night — and 
then  not  till  after  twelve.  There's  something  wrong  about 
this  one,  now  you  mark  my  words.  I  don't  believe  it's  got 
any  right  to  be  around  in  the  daytime.  But  don't  it  look 
natural !  Jake  was  going  to  play  deef  and  dumb  here,  so 
the  neighbors  wouldn't  know  his  voice.  Do  you  reckon  it 
would  do  that  if  we  was  to  holler  at  it  ?" 

"  Lordy,  Tom,  don't  talk  so !  If  you  was  to  holler  at  it 
I'd  die  in  my  tracks." 

"  Don't  you  worry,  I  ain't  going  to  holler  at  it.  Look, 
Huck,  it's  a-scratching  its  head — djn't  you  see  ?" 

"Well,  what  of  it?" 

"  Why,  this.  What's  the  sense  of  it  scratching  its  head  ? 
There  ain't  anything  there  to  itch  ;  its  head  is  made  out  of 
fog  or  something  like  that,  ai'd  can't  itch.  A  fog  can't  itch  ; 
any  fool  knows  that." 

"Well,  then,  if  it  don't  itch  and  can't  itch,  what  in  the 
nation  is  it  scratching  it  for?  Ain't  it  just  habit,  don't  you 
reckon  ?" 

"No,  sir,  I  don't.  I  ain't  a  bit  satisfied  about  the  way 
this  one  acts,  I've  a  blame  good  notion  it's  a  bogus  one— 


157 

I  have,  as  sure  as  I'm  a- sitting  here.  Because,  if  it— 
Huck !" 

"  Well,  what's  the  matter  now  ?" 

"  You  cant  see  the  bushes  through  it  T 

"  Why,  Tom,  it's  so,  sure !  It's  as  solid  as  a  cow.  I  sort 
of  begin  to  think — " 

"  Huck,  it's  biting  off  a  chaw  of  tobacker !  By  George, 
they  don't  chaw  —  they  hain't  got  anything  to  chaw  with. 
Huck !" 

"  I'm  a-listening." 

"  It  ain't  a  ghost  at  all.     It's  Jake  Dunlap  his  own  self !" 

"  Oh,  your  granny  !"  I  says. 

"  Huck  Finn,  did  we  find  any  corpse  in  the  syca 
mores  ?" 

"  No." 

"  Or  any  sign  of  one  ?" 

"  No." 

"  Mighty  good  reason.  Hadn't  ever  been  any  corpse 
there." 

"  Why,  Tom,  you  know  we  heard — " 

"Yes,  we  did  —  heard  a  howl  or  two.  Does  that  prove 
anybody  was  killed  ?  Course  ij  don't.  And  we  seen  four 
men  run,  then  this  one  come  walking  out  and  we  took  it  for 
a  ghost.  No  more  ghost  than  you  are.  It  was  Jake  Dun- 
lap  his  own  self,  and  it's  Jake  Dunlap  now.  He's  been  and 
got  his  hair  cropped,  the  way  he  said  he  would,  and  he's 
playing  himself  for  a  stranger,  just  the  same  as  he  said  he 
would.  Ghost  ?  Hum  ! — he's  as  sound  as  a  nut." 

Then  I  see  it  all,  and  how  we  had  took  too  much  for 
granted.  I  was  powerful  glad  he  didn't  get  killed,  and  so 
was  Tom,  and  we  wondered  which  he  would  like  the  best — 
for  us  to  never  let  on  to  know  him,  or  how  ?  Tom  reckoned 
the  best  way  would  be  to  go  and  ask  him.  So  he  started ; 
but  I  kept  a  little  behind,  because  I  didn't  know  but  it 


158 

might  be  a  ghost,  after  all.  When  Tom  got  to  where  he 
was,  he  says : 

"  Me  and  Huck's  mighty  glad  to  see  you  again,  and  you 
needn't  be  afeard  we'll  tell.  And  if  you  think  it  '11  be  safer 
for  you  if  we  don't  let  on  to  know  you  when  we  run  across 
you,  say  the  word  and  you'll  see  you  can  depend  on  us,  and 
would  ruther  cut  our  hands  off  than  get  you  into  the  least 
little  bit  of  danger." 

First  off  he  looked  surprised  to  see  us,  and  not  very  glad, 
either  ;  but  as  Tom  went  on  he  looked  pleasanter,  and  when 
he  was  done  he  smiled,  and  nodded  his  head  several  times, 
and  made  signs  with  his  hands,  and  says  : 

"  Goo-goo — goo-goo,"  the  way  deef  and  dummies  does. 

Just  then  we  see  some  of  Steve  Nickerson's  people  com 
ing  that  lived  t'other  side  of  the  prairie,  so  Tom  says : 

"  You  do  it  elegant ;  I  never  see  anybody  do  it  better. 
You're  right ;  play  it  on  us,  too ;  play  it  on  us  same  as  the 
others  j  it  '11  keep  you  in  practice  and  prevent  you  making 
blunders.  We'll  keep  away  from  you  and  let  on  we  don't 
know  you,  but  any  time  we  can  be  any  help,  you  just  let  us 
know." 

Then  we  loafed  along  past  the  Nickersons,  and  of  course 
they  asked  if  that  was  the  new  stranger  yonder,  and  where'd 
he  come  from,  and  what  was  his  name,  and  which  com 
munion  was  he,  Babtis'  or  Methodis',  and  which  politics, 
Whig  or  Democrat,  and  how  long  is  he  staying,  and  all 
them  other  questions  that  humans  always  asks  when  a 
stranger  comes,  and  animals  does  too.  But  Tom  said  he 
warn't  able  to  make  anything  out  of  deef  and  dumb  signs, 
and  the  same  with  goo-gooing.  Then  we  watched  them  go 
and  bullyrag  Jake ;  because  we  was  pretty  uneasy  for  him. 
Tom  said  it  would  take  him  days  to  get  so  he  wouldn't  for 
get  he  was  a  deef  and  dummy  sometimes,  and  speak  out 
before  he  thought.  When  we  had  watched  long  enough  to 


GOO-GOO — GOO-GOO  '  " 


159 

see  that  Jake  was  getting  along  all  right  and  working  his 
signs  very  good,  we  loafed  along  again,  allowing  to  strike 
the  school-house  about  recess  time,  which  was  a  three-mile 
tramp. 

I  was  so  disappointed  not  to  hear  Jake  tell  about  the  row 
in  the  sycamores,  and  how  near  he  come  to  getting  killed, 
that  I  couldn't  seem  to  get  over  it,  and  Tom  he  felt  the 
same,  but  said  if  we  was  in  Jake's  fix  we  would  want  to  go 
careful  and  keep  still  and  not  take  any  chances. 

The  boys  and  girls  was  all  glad  to  see  us  again,  and  we 
had  a  real  good  time  all  through  recess.  Coming  to  school 
the  Henderson  boys  had  come  across  the  new  deef  and 
dummy  and  told  the  rest ;  so  all  the  scholars  was  chuck 
full  of  him  and  couldn't  talk  about  anything  else,  and  was 
in  a  sweat  to  get  a  sight  of  him  because  they  hadn't  ever 
seen  a  deef  and  dummy  in  their  lives,  and  it  made  a  power 
ful  excitement. 

Tom  said  it  was  tough  to  have  to  keep  mum  now ;  said 
we  would  be  heroes  if  we  could  come  out  and  tell  all  we 
knowed ;  but  after  all,  it  was  still  more  heroic  to  keep  mum, 
there  warn't  two  boys  in  a  million  could  do  it.  That  was""7 
Tom  Sawyer's  idea  about  it,  and  I  reckoned  there  warn't 
anybody  could  better  it. 

UTS 


CHAPTER   IX 

IN  the  next  two  or  three  days  Dummy  he  got  to  be 
powerful  popular.  He  went  associating  around  with  the 
neighbors,  and  they  made  much  of  him,  and  was  proud  to 
have  such  a  rattling  curiosity  amongst  them.  They  had 
him  to  breakfast,  they  had  him  to  dinner,  they  had  him  to 
supper;  they  kept  him  loaded  up  with  hog  and  hominy, 
and  warn't  ever  tired  staring  at  him  and  wondering  over 
him,  and  wishing  they  knowed  more  about  him,  he  was  so 
uncommon  and  romantic.  His  signs  warn't  no  good; 
people  couldn't  understand  them  and  he  prob'ly  couldn't 
himself,  but  he  done  a  sight  of  goo-gooing,  and  so  every 
body  was  satisfied,  and  admired  to  hear  him  go  it.  He 
toted  a  piece  of  slate  around,  and  a  pencil ;  and  people 
wrote  questions  on  it  and  he  wrote  answers  ;  but  there 
warn't  anybody  could  read  his  writing  but  Brace  Dunlap. 
Brace  said  he  couldn't  read  it  very  good,  but  he  could  man 
age  to  dig  out  the  meaning  most  of  the  time.  He  said 
Dummy  said  he  belonged  away  off  somers  and  used  to  be 
well  off,  but  got  busted  by  swindlers  which  he  had  trusted, 
and  was  poor  now,  and  hadn't  any  way  to  make  a  living. 

Everybody  praised  Brace  Dunlap  for  being  so  good  to 
that  stranger.  He  let  him  have  a  little  log-cabin  all  to 
himself,  and  had  his  niggers  take  care  of  it,  and  fetch  him 
all  the  vittles  he  wanted. 

Dummy  was  at  our  house  some,  because  old  Uncle  Silas 
was  so  afflicted  himself,  these  days,  that  anybody  else  that 
was  afflicted  was  a  comfort  to  him.  Me  and  Tom  didn't  let 


on  that  we  had  knowed  him  before,  and  he  didn't  let  on 
that  he  had  knowed  us  before.  The  family  talked  their 
troubles  out  before  him  the  same  as  if  he  wasn't  there,  but 
we  reckoned  it  wasn't  any  harm  for  him  to  hear  what  they 
said.  Generly  he  didn't  seem  to  notice,  but  sometimes  he 
did. 

Well,  two  or  three  days  went  along,  and  everybody  got  to 
getting  uneasy  about  Jubiter  Dunlap.  Everybody  was  ask- 
ing  everybody  if  they  had  any  idea  what  had  become  of 
him.  No,  they  hadn't,  they  said ;  and  they  shook  their 
heads  and  said  there  was  something  powerful  strange 
about  it.  Another  and  another  day  went  by ;  then  there 
was  a  report  got  around  that  praps  he  was  murdered.  You 
bet  it  made  a  big  stir !  Everybody's  tongue  was  clacking 
away  after  that.  Saturday  two  or  three  gangs  turned  out 
and  hunted  the  woods  to  see  if  they  could  run  across  his 
remainders.  Me  and  Tom  helped,  and  it  was  noble  good 
times  and  exciting.  Tom  he  was  so  brim  full  of  it  he 
couldn't  eat  nor  rest.  He  said  if  we  could  find  that  corpse 
we  would  be  celebrated,  and  more  talked  about  than  if  we 
got  drownded. 

The  others  got  tired  and  give  it  up ;  but  not  Tom  Sawyer 
— that  warn't  his  style.  Saturday  night  he  didn't  sleep 
any,  hardly,  trying  to  think  up  a  plan  ;  and  towards  daylight 
in  the  morning  he  struck  it.  He  snaked  me  out  of  bed  and 
was  all  excited,  and  says — 

"Quick,  Huck,  snatch  on  your  clothes  —  I've  got  it! 
Blood-hound !" 

In  two  minutes  we  was  tearing  up  the  river  road  in  the 
dark  towards  the  village.  Old  Jeff  Hooker  had  a  blood 
hound,  and  Tom  was  going  to  borrow  him.  I  says — 

"  The  trail's  too  old,  Tom — and,  besides,  it's  rained,  you 
know." 

"  It  don't  make  any  difference,  Huck.     If  the  body's  hid 


162 

in  the  woods  anywhere  around  the  hound  will  find  it  If 
he's  been  murdered  and  buried,  they  wouldn't  bury*Aim 
deep,  it  ain't  likely,  and  if  the  dog  goes  over  the  spot  he'll 
scent  him,  sure.  Huck,  we're  going  to  be  celebrated;  sure 
as  you're  born  !" 

He  was  just  a-blazing ;  and  whenever  he  got  afire  he  was 

most  likely  to  get  afire  all  over.     That  was  the  way  this 

time.     In  two  minutes  he  had  got  it  all  ciphered  out,  and 

wasn't  only  just  going  to  find  the  corpse — no,  he  was  going 

to  get  on  the  track  of  that  murderer  and  hunt  him  down, 

too ;  and  not  only  that,  but  he  was  going  to  stick  to  him  till — 

f     "Well,"  I    says,    "you   better  find    the   corpse  first;   I 

i  reckon  that's  a-plenty  for  to-day.     For  all  we  know,  there 

ain't  any  corpse  and  nobody  hain't  been  murdered.     That 

Cuss  could  'a'  gone  off  somers  and  not  been  killed  at  all." 

That  gravelled  him,  and  he  says — 

"  Huck  Finn,  I  never  see  such  a  person  as  you  to  want 
to  spoil  everything.  As  long  as  you  can't  see  anything  hope 
ful  in  a  thing,  you  won't  let  anybody  else.  What  good  can 
it  do  you  to  throw  cold  water  on  that  corpse  and  get  up  that 
selfish  theory  that  there  ain't  been  any  murder  ?  None  in 
the  world.  I  don't  see  how  you  can  act  so.  I  wouldn't 
treat  you  like  that,  and  you  know  it.  Here  we've  got  a 
noble  good  opportunity  to  make  a  ruputation,  and — " 

"  Oh,  go  ahead,"  I  says ;  "  I'm  sorry,  and  I  take  it  all  back. 
I  didn't  mean  nothing.  Fix  it  any  way  you  want  it.  He 
ain't  any  consequence  to  me.  If  he's  killed,  I'm  as  glad  of 
it  as  you  are ;  and  if  he— 

"  I  never  said  anything  about  being  glad  ;  I  only — " 

"  Well,  then,  I'm  as  sorry  as  you  are.  Any  way  you  druth- 
er  have  it,  that  is  the  way  /druther  have  it.  He — " 

"  There  ain't  any  druthers  about  it,  Huck  Finn ;  nobody 
said  anything  about  druthers.  And  as  for — " 

He  forgot  he  was  talking,  and  went  tramping  along,  study- 


ing.  <^  He  begun  to  get  excited  again,  and  pretty  soon  he 
says — 

"Huck,  it  '11  be  the  bulliest  thing  that  ever  happened  if 
we  find  the  body  after  everybody  else  has  quit  looking,  and 
then  go  ahead  and  hunt  up  the  murderer.  It  won't  only  be 
an  honor  to  us,  but  it  '11  be  an  honor  to  Uncle  Silas  because 
it  was  us  that  done  it.  It  '11  set  him  up  again,  you  see  if  it 
don't." 

But  old  Jeff  Hooker  he  throwed  cold  water  on  the  whole 
business  when  we  got  to  his  blacksmith-shop  and  told  him 
what  we  come  for. 

"You  can  take  the  dog,"  he  says,  "but  you  ain't  a-going 
to  find  any  corpse,  because  there  ain't  any  corpse  to  find. 
Everybody's  quit  looking,  and  they're  right.  Soon  as  they 
come  to  think,  they  knowed  there  warn't  no  corpse.  And 
I'll  tell  you  for  why.  What  does  a  person  kill  another  per- 
sonyfrr,  Tom  Sawyer  ? — answer  me  that." 

"Why,  he— er— " 

"  Answer  up !  You  ain't  no  fool.  What  does  he  kill  him 
fort* 

"  Well,  sometimes  it's  for  revenge,  and — " 

"Wait.  One  thing  at  a  time.  Revenge,  says  you;  and 
right  you  are.  Now  who  ever  had  anything  agin  that  poor 
trifling  no -account?  Who  do  you  reckon  would  want  to 
kill  him  ?— that  rabbit!" 

Tom  was  stuck.  I  reckon  he  hadn't  thought  of  a  person 
having  to  have  a  reason  for  killing  a  person  before,  and  now 
he  sees  it  warn't  likely  anybody  would  have  that  much  of  a 
grudge  against  a  lamb  like  Jubiter  Dunlap.  The  blacksmith 
says,  by-and-by — 

"The  revenge  idea  won't  work,  you  see.  Well,  then, 
what's  next  ?  Robbery  ?  B'gosh,  that  must  'a'  been  it,  Tom  ! 
Yes,  sirree,  I  reckon  we've  struck  it  this  time.  Some  feller 
wanted  his  gallus-buckles,  and  so  he — " 


But  it  was  so  funny  he  busted  out  laughing,  and  just  went 
on  laughing  and  laughing  and  laughing  till  he  was  'most  dead, 
and  Tom  looked  so  put  out  and  cheap  that  I  knowed  he  was 
ashamed  he  had  come,  and  he  wished  he  hadn't.  But  old 
Hooker  never  let  up  on  him.  He  raked  up  everything  a 
person  ever  could  want  to  kill  another  person  about,  and 
any  fool  could  see  they  didn't  any  of  them  fit  this  case,  and 
he  just  made  no  end  of  fun  of  the  whole  business  and  of 
the  people  that  had  been  hunting  the  body;  and  he  said — 

"  If  they'd  had  any  sense  they'd  'a'  knowed  the  lazy  cuss 
slid  out  because  he  wanted  a  loafing  spell  after  all  this  work. 
He'll  come  pottering  back  in  a  couple  of  weeks,  and  then 
how  '11  you  fellers  feel  ?  But,  laws  bless  you,  take  the  dog, 
and  go  and  hunt  his  remainders.  Do,  Tom." 

Then  he  busted  out,  and  had  another  of  them  forty-rod 
laughs  of  hisn.  Tom  couldn't  back  down  after  all  this,  so 
he  said,  "All  right,  unchain  him;"  and  the  blacksmith  done 
it,  and  we  started  home  and  left  that  old  man  laughing  yet. 

It  was  a  lovely  dog.  There  ain't  any  dog  that's  got  a 
lovelier  disposition  than  a  blood-hound,  and  this  one  knowed 
us  and  liked  us.  He  capered  and  raced  around  ever  so 
friendly,  and  powerful  glad  to  be  free  and  have  a  holiday ; 
but  Tom  was  so  cut  up  he  couldn't  take  any  intrust  in  him, 
and  said  he  wished  he'd  stopped  and  thought  a  minute  be 
fore  he  ever  started  on  such  a  fool  errand.  He  said  old 
Jeff  Hooker  would  tell  everybody,  and  we'd  never  hear  the 
last  of  it. 

So  we  loafed  along  home  down  the  back  lanes,  feeling 
pretty  glum  and  not  talking.  When  we  was  passing  the  far 
corner  of  our  tobacker-field  we  heard  the  dog  set  up  a  long 
howl  in  there,  and  we  went  to  the  place  and  he  was  scratch 
ing  the  ground  with  all  his  might,  and  every  now  and  then 
canting  up  his  head  sideways  and  fetching  another  howl. 

It  was  a  long  square,  the  shape  of  a  grave ;  the  rain  had 


FKTCHING    ANOTHER    HOWL" 


made  it  sink  down  and  show  the  shape.  The  minute  we 
come  and  stood  there  we  looked  at  one  another  and  never 
said  a  word.  When  the  dog  had  dug  down  only  a  few 
inches  he  grabbed  something  and  pulled  it  up,  and  it  was 
an  arm  and  a  sleeve.  Tom  kind  of  gasped  out,  and  says — 

"  Come  away,  Huck — it's  found." 

I  just  felt  awful.  We  struck  for  the  road  and  fetched 
the  first  men  that  come  along.  They  got  a  spade  at  the 
crib  and  dug  out  the  body,  and  you  never  see  such  an  ex 
citement.  You  couldn't  make  anything  out  of  the  face, 
but  you  didn't  need  to.  Everybody  said — 

"  Poor  Jubiter  ;  it's  his  clothes,  to  the  last  rag !" 

Some  rushed  off  to  spread  the  news  and  tell  the  justice 
of  the  peace  and  have  an  inquest,  and  me  and  Tom  lit  out 
for  the  house.  Tom  was  all  afire  and  'most  out  of  breath 
when  we  come  tearing  in  where  Uncle  Silas  and  Aunt  Sally 
and  Benny  was.  Tom  sung  out — 

"  Me  and  Huck's  found  Jubiter  Dunlap's  corpse  all  by 
ourselves  with  a  blood-hound,  after  everybody  else  had  quit 
hunting  and  given  it  up ;  and  if  it  hadn't  a  been  for  us  it 
never  would  'a'  been  found  ;  and  he  was  murdered  too— 
they  done  it  with  a  club  or  something  like  that ;  and  I'm 
going  to  start  in  and  find  the  murderer,  next,  and  I  bet  I'll 
do  it !" 

Aunt  Sally  and  Benny  sprung  up  pale  and  astonished, 
but  Uncle  Silas  fell  right  forward  out  of  his  chair  onto  the 
floor  and  groans  out — 

**  Oh,  my  God,  you've  found  him  now  /" 


CHAPTER   X 

THEM  awful  words  froze  us  solid.  We  couldn't  move 
hand  or  foot  for  as  much  as  half  a  minute.  Then  we  kind 
of  come  to,  and  lifted  the  old  man  up  and  got  him  into  his 
chair,  and  Benny  petted  him  and  kissed  him  and  tried  to 
comfort  him,  and  poor  old  Aunt  Sally  she  done  the  same  ; 
but,  poor  things,  they  was  so  broke  up  and  scared  and 
knocked  out  of  their  right  minds  that  they  didn't  hardly 
know  what  they  was  about.  With  Tom  it  was  awful ;  it 
'most  petrified  him  to  think  maybe  he  had  got  his  uncle 
into  a  thousand  times  more  trouble  than  ever,  and  maybe 
it  wouldn't  ever  happened  if  he  hadn't  been  so  ambitious 
to  get  celebrated,  and  let  the  corpse  alone  the  way  the 
others  done.  But  pretty  soon  he  sort  of  come  to  himself 
again  and  says — 

"  Uncle  Silas,  don't  you  say  another  word  like  that.  It's 
dangerous,  and  there  ain't  a  shadder  of  truth  in  it." 

Aunt  Sally  and  Benny  was  thankful  to  hear  him  say  that, 
and  they  said  the  same ;  but  the  old  man  he  wagged  his 
head  sorrowful  and  hopeless,  and  the  tears  run  down  his 
face,  and  he  says — 

"  No — I  done  it ;  poor  Jubiter,  I  done  it !" 

It  was  dreadful  to  hear  him  say  it.  Then  he  went  on 
and  told  about  it,  and  said  it  happened  the  day  me  and 
Tom  come — along  about  sundown.  He  said  Jubiter  pes 
tered  him  and  aggravated  him  till  he  was  so  mad  he  just 
sort  of  lost  his  mind  and  grabbed  up  a  stick  and  hit  him 
pver  the  head  with  all  his  might,  and  Jubiter  dropped  in 


167 

his  tracks.  Then  he  was  scared  and  sorry,  and  got  down 
on  his  knees  and  lifted  his  head  up,  and  begged  him  to 
speak  and  say  he  wasn't  dead ;  and  before  long  he  come  to, 
and  when  he  see  who  it  was  holding  his  head,  he  jumped 
like  he  was  'most  scared  to  death,  and  cleared  the  fence 
and  tore  into  the  woods,  and  was  gone.  So  he  hoped  he 
wasn't  hurt  bad. 

"  But  laws," he  says,  "it  was  only  just  fear  that  gave  him 
that  last  little  spurt  of  strength,  and  of  course  it  soon 
played  out  and  he  laid  down  in  the  bush,  and  there  wasn't 
anybody  to  help  him,  and  he  died." 

Then  the  old  man  cried  and  grieved,  and  said  he  was  a 
murderer  and  the  mark  of  Cain  was  on  him,  and  he  had 
disgraced  his  family  and  was  going  to  be  found  out  and 
hung.  But  Tom  said — 

"  No,  you  ain't  going  to  be  found  out.  You  didn't  kill 
him.  One  lick  wouldn't  kill  him.  Somebody  else  done  it." 

"  Oh  yes,"  he  says,  "  I  done  it — nobody  else.  Who  else 
had  anything  against  him  ?  Who  else  could  have  anything 
against  him  ?" 

He  looked  up  kind  of  like  he  hoped  some  of  us  could 
mention  somebody  that  could  have  a  grudge  against  that 
harmless  no-account,  but  of  course  it  warn't  no  use — he  had 
us ;  we  couldn't  say  a  word.  He  noticed  that,  and  he  sad 
dened  down  again,  and  I  never  see  a  face  so  miserable  and 
so  pitiful  to  see.  Tom  had  a  sudden  idea,  and  says — 

"  But  hold  on  ! — somebody  buried  him.     Now  who — " 

He  shut  off  sudden.  I  knowed  the  reason.  It  give  me 
the  cold  shudders  when  he  said  them  words,  because  right 
away  I  remembered  about  us  seeing  Uncle  Silas  prowling 
around  with  a  long-handled  shovel  away  in  the  night  that 
night.  And  I  knowed  Benny  seen  him,  too,  because  she 
was  talking  about  it  one  day.  The  minute  Tom  shut  off 
he  changed  the  subject  and  went  to  begging  Uncle  Silas  to 


i68 


keep  mum,  and  the  rest  of  us  done  the  same,  and  said  he  must, 
and  said  it  wasn't  his  business  to  tell  on  himself,  and  if  he 
kept  mum  nobody  would  ever  know;  but  if  it  was  found  out 
and  any  harm  come  to  him  it  would  break  the  family's 
hearts  and  kill  them,  and  yet  never  do  anybody  any  good. 
So  at  last  he  promised.  We  was  all  of  us  more  comfortable, 
then,  and  went  to  work  to  cheer  up  the  old  man.  We  told 
him  all  he'd  got  to  do  was  to  keep  still,  and  it  wouldn't  be 
long  till  the  whole  thing  would  blow  over  and  be  forgot. 
We  all  said  there  wouldn't  anybody  ever  suspect  Uncle 
Silas,  nor  ever  dream  of  such  a  thing,  he  being  so  good 
and  kind,  and  having  such  a  good  character ;  and  Tom 
says,  cordial  and  hearty,  he  says — 

"  Why,  just  look  at  it  a  minute  ;  just  consider.  Here  is 
Uncle  Silas,  all  these  years  a  preacher  —  at  his  own  ex 
pense  ,  all  these  years  doing  good  with  all  his  might  and 
every  way  he  can  think  of  —  at  his  own  expense,  all  the 
time ;  always  been  loved  by  everybody,  and  respected ;  al 
ways  been  peaceable  and  minding  his  own  business,  the  very 
last  man  in  this  whole  deestrict  to  touch  a  person,  and 
everybody  knows  it.  Suspect  him  ?  Why,  it  ain't  any  more 
possible  than — 

"By  authority  of  the  State  of  Arkansaw,  I  arrest  you 
for  the  murder  of  Jubiter  Dunlap  !"  shouts  the  sheriff  at 
the  door. 

It  was  awful.  Aunt  Sally  and  Benny  flung  themselves 
at  Uncle  Silas,  screaming  and  crying,  and  hugged  him  and 
hung  to  him,  and  Aunt  Sally  said  go  away,  she  wouldn't 
ever  give  him  up,  they  shouldn't  have  him,  and  the  niggers 
they  come  crowding  and  crying  to  the  door  and  —  well,  I 
couldn't  stand  it ;  it  was  enough  to  break  a  person's  heart; 
so  I  got  out. 

They  took  him  up  to  the  little  one-horse  jail  in  the  vil 
lage,  and  we  all  went  along  to  tell  him  good-by ;  and  Tom 


was  feeling  elegant,  and  says  to  me,  "  We'll  have  a  most 
noble  good  time  and  heaps  of  danger  some  dark  night 
getting  him  out  of  there,  Huck,  and  it  '11  be  talked  about 
everywheres  and  we  will  be  celebrated ;"  but  the  old  man 
busted  that  scheme  up  the  minute  he  whispered  to  him 
about  it.  He  said  no,  it  was  his  duty  to  stand  whatever 
the  law  done  to  him,  and  he  would  stick  to  the  jail  plumb 
through  to  the  end,  even  if  there  warn't  no  door  to  it.  It 
disappointed  Tom  and  gravelled  him  a  good  deal,  but  he 
had  to  put  up  with  it. 

But  he  felt  responsible  and  bound  to  get  his  uncle  Silas 
free ;  and  he  told  Aunt  Sally,  the  last  thing,  not  to  worry, 
because  he  was  going  to  turn  in  and  work  night  and  day 
and  beat  this  game  and  fetch  Uncle  Silas  out  innocent; 
and  she  was  very  loving  to  him  and  thanked  him  and  said 
she  knowed  he  would  do  his  very  best.  And  she  told  us 
to  help  Benny  take  care  of  the  house  and  the  children,  and 
then  we  had  a  good-by  cry  all  around  and  went  back  to  the 
farm,  and  left  her  there  to  live  with  the  jailer's  wife  a 
month  till  the  trial  in  October. 


CHAPTER   XI 

WELL,  that  was  a  hard  month  on  us  all.  Poor  Benny, 
she  kept  up  the  best  she  could,  and  me  and  Tom  tried  to 
keep  things  cheerful  there  at  the  house,  but  it  kind  of  went 
for  nothing,  as  you  may  say.  It  was  the  same  up  at  the 
jail.  We  went  up  every  day  to  see  the  old  people,  but  it 
was  awful  dreary,  because  the  old  man  warn't  sleeping 
much,  and  was  walking  in  his  sleep  considerable,  and  so 
he  got  to  looking  fagged  and  miserable,  and  his  mind  got 
shaky,  and  we  all  got  afraid  his  troubles  would  break  him 
down  and  kill  him.  And  whenever  we  tried  to  persuade 
him  to  feel  cheerfuler,  he  only  shook  his  head  and  said  if 
we  only  knowed  what  it  was  to  carry  around  a  murderer's 
load  on  your  heart  we  wouldn't  talk  that  way.  Tom  and 
all  of  us  kept  telling  him  it  wasn't  murder,  but  just  ac 
cidental  killing,  but  it  never  made  any  difference — it  was 
murder,  and  he  wouldn't  have  it  any  other  way.  He 
actu'ly  begun  to  come  out  plain  and  square  towards  trial- 
time  and  acknowledge  that  he  tried  to  kill  the  man.  Why, 
that  was  awful,  you  know.  It  made  things  seem  fifty  times 
as  dreadful,  and  there  warn't  no  more  comfort  for  Aunt 
Sally  and  Benny.  But  he  promised  he  wouldn't  say  a  word 
about  his  murder  when  others  was  around,  and  we  was  glad 
of  that. 

Tom  Sawyer  racked  the  head  off  of  himself  all  that 
month  trying  to  plan  some  way  out  for  Uncle  Silas,  and 
many's  the  night  he  kept  me  up  'most  all  night  with  this 
kind  of  tiresome  work,  but  he  couldn't  seem  to  get  on  the 


KEPT   ME    UP    MOST   ALL    NIGHT 


right  track  no  way.  As  for  me,  I  reckoned  a  body  might 
as  well  give  it  up,  it  all  looked  so  blue  and  I  was  so  down 
hearted  ;  but  he  wouldn't.  He  stuck  to  the  business  right 
along,  and  went  on  planning  and  thinking  and  ransacking 
his  head. 

So  at  last  the  trial  come  on,  towards  the  middle  of  Octo-  | 
ber,  and  we  was  all  in  the  court. 


of^Qour_se,  Poor  old  Uncle  Silas,  he  looked  more  like  a 
dead  person  than  a  live  one,  his  eyes  was  so  hollow  and  he 
looked  so  thin  and  so  mournful.  Benny  she  set  on  one 
side  of  him  and  Aunt  Sally  on  the  other,  and  they  had  veils 
on,  and  was  full  of  trouble.  But  Tom  he  set  by  our  lawyer, 
and  had  his  finger  in  everywheres,  of  course.  The  lawyer 
let  him,  and  the  judge  let  him.  He  'most  took  the  business 
out  of  the  lawyer's  hands  sometimes  ;  which  was  well 
enough,  because  that  was  only  a  mud-turtle  of  a  back-settle 
ment  lawyer  and  didn't  know  enough  to  come  in  when  it 
rains,  as  the  saying  is. 

They  swore  in  the  jury,  and  then  the  lawyer  for  the  pros 
titution  got  up  and  begun.  He  made  a  terrible  speech 
against  the  old  man,  that  made  him  moan  and  groan,  and 
made  Benny  and  Aunt  Sally  cry.  The  way  he  told  about 
the  murder  kind  of  knocked  us  all  stupid  it  was  so  differ 
ent  from  the  old  man's  tale.  He  said  he  was  going  to 
prove  that  Uncle  Silas  was  seen  to  kill  Jubiter  Dunlap  by 
two  good  witnesses,  and  done  it  deliberate,  and  said  he  was 
going  to  kill  him  the  very  minute  he  hit  him  with  the  club  ; 
and  they  seen  him  hide  Jubiter  in  the  bushes,  and  they 
seen  that  Jubiter  was  stone-dead.  And  said  Uncle  Silas 
come  later  and  lugged  Jubiter  down  into  the  tobacker-field, 
and  two  men  seen  him  do  it.  And  said  Uncle  Silas  turned 
out,  away  in  the  night,  and  buried  Jubiter,  and  a  man  seen 
him  at  it. 

I  says  to  myself,  poor  old  Uncle  Silas  has  been  lying 


172 


about  it  because  he  reckoned  nobody  seen  him  and  he 
couldn't  bear  to  break  Aunt  Sally's  heart  and  Benny's ; 
and  right  he  was  :  as  for  me,  I  would  'a'  lied  the  same  way, 
and  so  would  anybody  that  had  any  feeling,  to  save  them 
such  misery  and  sorrow  which  they  warn't  no  ways  respon 
sible  for.  Well,  it  made  our  lawyer  look  pretty  sick;  and 
it  knocked  Tom  silly,  too,  for  a  little  spell,  but  then  he 
braced  up  and  let  on  that  he  warn't  worried — but  I  knowed 
he  was,  all  the  same.  And  the  people — my,  but  it  made  a 
stir  amongst  them  ! 

And  when  that  lawyer  was  done  telling  the  jury  what  he 
was  going  to  prove,  he  set  down  and  begun  to  work  his 
witnesses. 

First,  he  called  a  lot  of  them  to  show  that  there  was  bad 
blood  betwixt  Uncle  Silas  and  the  diseased ;  and  they  told 
how  they  had  heard  Uncle  Silas  threaten  the  diseased,  at 
one  time  and  another,  and  how  it  got  worse  and  worse  and 
everybody  was  talking  about  it,  and  how  diseased  got 
afraid  of  his  life,  and  told  two  or  three  of  them  he  was  cer 
tain  Uncle  Silas  would  up  and  kill  him  some  time  or  an 
other. 

Tom  and  our  lawyer  asked  them  some  questions ;  but  it 
warn't  no  use,  they  stuck  to  what  they  said. 

Next,  they  called  up  Lem  Beebe,  and  he  took  the  stand. 
It  come  into  my  mind,  then,  how  Lem  and  Jim  Lane  had 
come  along  talking,  that  time,  about  borrowing  a  dog  or 
something  from  Jubiter  Dunlap ,  and  that  brought  up  the 
blackberries  and  the  lantern ;  and  that  brought  up  Bill  and 
Jack  Withers,  and  how  they  passed  by,  talking  about  a  nig 
ger  stealing  Uncle  Silas's  corn ;  and  that  fetched  up  our 
old  ghost  that  come  along  about  the  same  time  and  scared 
us  so — and  here  he  was  too,  and  a  privileged  character,  on 
accounts  of  his  being  deef  and  dumb  and  a  stranger,  and 
they  had  fixed  him  a  chair  inside  the  railing,  where  he 


OUR   LAWYER 


could  cross  his  legs  and  be  comfortable,  whilst  the  other 
people  was  all  in  a  jam  so  they  couldn't  hardly  breathe. 
So  it  all  come  back  to  me  just  the  way  it  was  that  day ; 
and  it  made  me  mournful  to  think  how  pleasant  it  was  up 
to  then,  and  how  miserable  ever  since. 

LemBeebe,  sworn,  said  :  "I  was  a-coming  along,  that  day,  second  of 
September,  and  Jim  Lane  was  with  me,  and  it  was  towards  sundown, 
and  we  heard  loud  talk,  like  quarrelling,  and  we  was  very  close,  only 
the  hazel  bushes  between  (that's  along  the  fence) ;  and  we  heard  a  voice 
say,  '  I've  told  you  more'n  once  I'd  kill  you,'  and  knowed  it  was  this 
prisoner's  voice  ;  and  then  we  see  a  club  come  up  above  the  bushes  and 
down  out  of  sight  again,  and  heard  a  smashing  thump  and  then  a  groan 
or  two  ;  and  then  we  crope  soft  to  where  we  could  see,  and  there  laid 
Jubiter  Dunlap  dead,  and  this  prisoner  standing  over  him  with  the 
club  ;  and  the  next  he  hauled  the  dead  man  into  a  clump  of  bushes  and 
hid  him,  and  then  we  stooped  low,  to  be  out  of  sight,  and  got  away." 

Well,  it  was  awful.  It  kind  of  froze  everybody's  blood 
to  hear  it,  and  the  house  was  'most  as  still  whilst  he  was 
telling  it  as  if  there  warn't  nobody  in  it.  And  when  he 
was  done,  you  could  hear  them  gasp  and  sigh,  all  over 
the  house,  and  look  at  one  another  the  same  as  to  says 
"Ain't  it  perfectly  terrible— ain't  it  awful !" 

Now  happened  a  thing  that  astonished  me.  All  the 
time  the  first  witnesses  was  proving  the  bad  blood  and  the 
threats  and  all  that,  Tom  Sawyer  was  alive  and  laying  for 
them ;  and  the  minute  they  was  through,  he  went  for  them, 
and  done  his  level  best  to  catch  them  in  lies  and  spile 
their  testimony.  But  now,  how  different.  When  Lem  first 
begun  to  talk,  and  never  said  anything  about  speaking  to 
Jubiter  or  trying  to  borrow  a  dog  off  of  him,  he  was  all  alive 
and  laying  for  Lem,  and  you  could  see  he  was  getting 
ready  to  cross-question  him  to  death  pretty  soon,  and  then 
I  judged  him  and  me  would  go  on  the  stand  by-and-by  and 
tell  what  we  heard  him  and  Jim  Lane  say.  But  the  next 


174 

time  I  looked  at  Tom  I  got  the  cold  shivers.  Why,  he 
was  in  the  brownest  study  you  ever  see — miles  and  miles 
away.  He  warn't  hearing  a  word  Lem  Beebe  was  saying; 
and  when  he  got  through  he  was  still  in  that  brown-study, 
just  the  same.  Our  lawyer  joggled  him,  and  then  he  looked 
up  startled,  and  says,  "  Take  the  witness  if  you  want  him. 
Lemme  alone — I  want  to  think." 

Well,  that  beat  me.  I  couldn't  understand  it.  And 
Benny  and  her  mother — oh,  they  looked  sick,  they  was  so 
troubled.  They  shoved  their  veils  to  one  side  and  tried  to 
get  his  eye,  but  it  warn't  any  use,  and  I  couldn't  get  his  eye 
either.  So  the  mud -turtle  he  tackled  the  witness,  but  it 
didn't  amount  to  nothing;  and  he  made  a  mess  of  it. 

Then  they  called  up  Jim  Lane,  and  he  told  the  very  same 
story  over  again,  exact.  Tom  never  listened  to  this  one  at 
all,  but  set  there  thinking  and  thinking,  miles  and  miles 
away.  So  the  mud -turtle  went  in  alone  again  and  come 
out  just  as  flat  as  he  done  before.  The  lawyer  for  the 
prostitution  looked  very  comfortable,  but  the  judge  looked 
disgusted.  You  see,  Tom  was  just  the  same  as  a  regular 
lawyer,  nearly,  because  it  was  Arkansaw  law  for  a  prisoner 
to  choose  anybody  he  wanted  to  help  his  lawyer,  and  Tom 
had  had  Uncle  Silas  shove  him  into  the  case,  and  now  he 
was  botching  it  and  you  could  see  the  judge  didn't  like  it 
much. 

All  that  the  mud-turtle  got  out  of  Lem  and  Jim  was  this: 
he  asked  them — 

"Why  didn't  you  go  and  tell  what  you  saw?" 

"We  was  afraid  we  would  get  mixed  up  in  it  ourselves. 
And  we  was  just  starting  down  the  river  a-hunting  for  all 
the  week  besides ;  but  as  soon  as  we  come  back  we  found 
out  they'd  been  searching  for  the  body,  so  then  we  went 
and  told  Brace  Dunlap  all  about  it." 

"When  was  that?" 


175 

"  Saturday  night,  September  gth." 

The  judge  he  spoke  up  and  says — 

"  Mr.  Sheriff,  arrest  these  two  witnesses  on  suspicions  of 
being  accessionary  after  the  fact  to  the  murder." 

The  lawyer  for  the  prostitution  jumps  up  all  excited,  and 
says — 

"  Your  honor  !     I  protest  against  this  extraordi — " 

"  Set  down !"  says  the  judge,  pulling  his  bowie  and  lay 
ing  it  on  his  pulpit.  "  I  beg  you  to  respect  the  Court." 

So  he  done  it.     Then  he  called  Bill  Withers. 

Bill  Withers,  sworn,  said:  "I  was  coming  along  about  sundown, 
Saturday,  September  2d,  by  the  prisoner's  field,  and  my  brother  Jack 
was  with  me,  and  we  seen  a  man  toting  off  something  heavy  on  his 
back  and  allowed  it  was  a  nigger  stealing  corn  ;  we  couldn't  see  dis 
tinct  ;  next  we  made  out  that  it  was  one  man  carrying  another  ;  and 
the  way  it  hung,  so  kind  of  limp,  we  judged  it  was  somebody  that  was 
drunk  ;  and  by  the  man's  walk  we  said  it  was  Parson  Silas,  and  we 
judged  he  had  found  Sam  Cooper  drunk  in  the  road,  which  he  was 
always  trying  to  reform  him,  and  was  toting  him  out  of  danger." 

It  made  the  people  shiver  to  think  of  poor  old  Uncle 
Silas  toting  off  the  diseased  down  to  the  place  in  his  to- 
backer-field  where  the  dog  dug  up  the  body,  but  there 
warn't  much  sympathy  around  amongst  the  faces,  and  I 
heard  one  cuss  say,  "  'Tis  the  coldest-blooded  work  I  ever 
struck,  lugging  a  murdered  man  around  like  that,  and  going 
to  bury  him  like  a  animal,  and  him  a  preacher  at  that." 

Tom  he  went  on  thinking,  and  never  took  no  notice ;  so 
our  lawyer  took  the  witness  and  done  the  best  he  could, 
and  it  was  plenty  poor  enough. 

Then  Jack  Withers  he  come  on  the  stand  and  told  the 
same  tale,  just  like  Bill  done. 

And  after  him  comes  Brace  Dunlap,  and  he  was  looking 
very  mournful,  and  most  crying;  and  there  was  a  rustle 

I3TS 


and  a  stir  all  around,  and  everybody  got  ready  to  listen, 
and  lots  of  the  women  folks  saicl,  "  Poor  cretur,  poor  cretur," 
and  you  could  see  a  many  of  them  wiping  their  eyes. 

Brace  Dunlap,  sworn,  said  :  "I  was  in  considerable  trouble  a  long 
time  about  my  poor  brother,  but  I  reckoned  things  warn't  near  so  bad 
as  he  made  out,  and  I  couldn't  make  myself  believe  anybody  would  have 
the  heart  to  hurt  a  poor  harmless  cretur  like  that" — [by  jings,  I  was 
sure  I  seen  Tom  give  a  kind  of  a  faint  little  start,  and  then  look  disap 
pointed  again] — "  and  you  know  I  couldn't  think  a  preacher  would  hurt 
him — it  warn't  natural  to  think  such  an  onlikely  thing — so  I  never  paid 
much  attention,  and  now  I  sha'n't  ever,  ever  forgive  myself  ;  for  if  I 
had  a  done  different,  my  poor  brother  would  be  with  me  this  day,  and 
not  laying  yonder  murdered,  and  him  so  harmless."  He  kind  of  broke 
down  there  and  choked  up,  and  waited  to  get  his  voice  ;  and  people  all 
around  said  the  most  pitiful  things,  and  women  cried  ;  and  it  was  very 
still  in  there,  and  solemn,  and  old  Uncle  Silas,  poor  thing,  he  give  a 
groan  right  out  so  everybody  heard  him.  Then  Brace  he  went  on, 
"Saturday,  September  2d,  he  didn't  come  home  to  supper.  By-and-by 
I  got  a  little  uneasy,  and  one  of  my  niggers  went  over  to  this  prisoner's 
place,  but  come  back  and  said  he  warn't  there.  So  I  got  uneasier  and 
uneasier,  and  couldn't  rest.  I  went  to  bed,  but  I  couldn't  sleep  ;  and 
turned  out,  away  late  in  the  night,  and  went  wandering  over  to  this 
prisoner's  place  and  all  around  about  there  a  good  while,  hoping  I 
would  run  across  my  poor  brother,  and  never  knowing  he  was  out  of  his 
troubles  and  gone  to  a  better  shore — "  So  he  broke  down  and  choked 
up  again,  and  most  all  the  women  was  crying  now.  Pretty  soon  he  got 
another  start  and  says :  "  But  it  warn't  no  use  ;  so  at  last  I  went  home 
and  tried  to  get  some  sleep,  but  couldn't.  Well,  in  a  day  or  two  every 
body  was  uneasy,  and  they  got  to  talking  about  this  prisoner's  threats, 
and  took  to  the  idea,  which  I  didn't  take  no  stock  in,  that  my  brother 
was  murdered  ;  so  they  hunted  around  and  tried  to  find  his  body,  but 
couldn't  and  give  it  up.  And  so  I  reckoned  he  was  gone  off  somers  to 
have  a  little  peace,  and  would  come  back  to  us  when  his  troubles  was 
kind  of  healed.  But  late  Saturday  night,  the  gth,  Lem  Beebe  and  Jim 
Lane  come  to  my  house  and  told  me  all — told  me  the  whole  awful  'sassi- 
nation,  and  my  heart  was  broke.  And  then  I  remembered  something 
that  hadn't  took  no  hold  of  me  at  the  time,  because  reports  said  this 
took  to  walking  in  his  sleep  and  doing  all  kind  of  things  of 


•*     SET    DOWN''     SAYS   THE   JUDGE' 


177 


no  consequence,  not  knowing  what  he  was  about.  I  will  tell  you  what 
that  thing  was  that  come  back  into  my  memory.  Away  late  that  awful 
Saturday  night  when  I  was  wandering  around  about  this  prisoner's 
place,  grieving  and  troubled,  I  was  down  by  the  corner  of  the  tobacker- 
field  and  I  heard  a  sound  like  digging  in  a  gritty  soil ;  and  I  crope 
nearer  and  peeped  through  the  vines  that  hung  on  the  rail  fence  and 
seen  this  prisoner  shovelling — shovelling  with  a  long-handled  shovel — 
heaving  earth  into  a  big  hole  that  was  most  filled  up ;  his  back  was  to 
me,  but  it  was  bright  moonlight  and  I  knowed  him  by  his  old  green 
baize  work-gown  with  a  splattery  white  patch  in  the  middle  of  the  back 
like  somebody  had  hit  him  with  a  snowball.  He  was  burying  the  man 
he'd  murdered  /" 

And  he  slumped  down  in  his  chair  crying  and  sobbing, 
and  'most  everybody  in  the  house  busted  out  wailing,  and 
crying,  and  saying,  "  Oh,  it's  awful — awful — horrible  !"  and 
there  was  a  most  tremenduous  excitement,  and  you  couldn't 
hear  yourself  think ;  and  right  in  the  midst  of  it  up  jumps 
old  Uncle  Silas,  white  as  a  sheet,  and  sings  out — 

"  It's  true,  every  word — I  murdered  him  in  cold  blood 7" 

By  Jackson,  it  petrified  them  !  People  rose  up  wild  all 
over  the  house,  straining  and  staring  for  a  better  look  at 
him,  and  the  judge  was  hammering  with  his  mallet  and  the 
sheriff  yelling  "  Order — order  in  the  court — order  !" 

And  all  the  while  the  old  man  stood  there  a-quaking  and 
his  eyes  a-burning,  and  not  looking  at  his  wife  and  daugh 
ter,  which  was  clinging  to  him  and  begging  him  to  keep 
still,  but  pawing  them  off  with  his  hands  and  saying  he 
would  clear  his  black  soul  from  crime,  he  would  heave  off 
this  load  that  was  more  than  he  could  bear,  and  he  wouldn't 
bear  it  another  hour !  And  then  he  raged  right  along  with 
his  awful  tale,  everybody  a-staring  and  gasping,  judge,  jury, 
lawyers,  and  everybody,  and  Benny  and  Aunt  Sally  crying 
their  hearts  out.  And  by  George,  Tom  Sawyer  never  looked 
at  him  once !  Never  once — just  set  there  gazing  with  all 
his  eyes  at  something  else,  I  couldn't  tell  what.  And  so 


the  old  man  raged  right  along,  pouring  his  words  out  like  a 
stream  of  fire : 

"  I  killed  him  !  I  am  guilty !  But  I  never  had  the  no 
tion  in  my  life  to  hurt  him  or  harm  him,  spite  of  all  them  lies 
about  my  threatening  him,  till  the  very  minute  I  raised  the 
club — then  my  heart  went  cold  ! — then  the  pity  all  went  out 
of  it,  and  I  struck  to  kill !  In  that  one  moment  all  my 
wrongs  come  into  my  mind ;  all  the  insults  that  that  man 
and  the  scoundrel  his  brother,  there,  had  put  upon  me,  and 
how  they  laid  in  together  to  ruin  me  with  the  people,  and 
take  away  my  good  name,  and  drive  me  to  some  deed  that 
would  destroy  me  and  my  family  that  hadn't  ever  done  them 
no  harm,  so  help  me  God  !  And  they  done  it  in  a  mean  re 
venge — for  why?  Because  my  innocent  pure  girl  here  at 
my  side  wouldn't  marry  that  rich,  insolent,  ignorant  coward, 
Brace  Dunlap,  who's  been  snivelling  here  over  a  brother  he 
never  cared  a  brass  farthing  for  " — [I  see  Tom  give  a  jump 
and  look  glad  this  time,  to  a  dead  certainty] — "  and  in  that 
moment  I've  told  you  about,  I  forgot  my  God  and  remem 
bered  only  my  heart's  bitterness,  God  forgive  me,  and  I 
struck  to  kill.  In  one  second  I  was  miserably  sorry — oh, 
filled  with  remorse ;  but  I  thought  of  my  poor  family,  and  I 
must  hide  what  I'd  done  for  their  sakes ;  and  I  did  hide 
that  corpse  in  the  bushes ;  and  presently  I  carried  it  to  the 
tobacker-field ;  and  in  the  deep  night  I  went  with  my  shovel 
and  buried  it  where — " 

Up  jumps  Tom  and  shouts — 

'''Now,  I've  got  it !"  and  waves  his  hand,  oh,  ever  so  fine 
and  starchy,  towards  the  old  man,  and  says — 

"  Set  down  !  A  murder  was  done,  but  you  never  had  no 
hand  in  it !" 

Well,  sir,  you  could  a  heard  a  pin  drop.  And  the  old  man 
he  sunk  down  kind  of  bewildered  in  his  seat  and  Aunt  Sally 
and  Benny  didn't  know  it,  because  they  was  so  astonished 


"'A    MURDER    WAS    DONE'" 


179 

and  staring  at  Tom  with  their  mouths  open  and  not  know 
ing  what  they  was  about.  And  the  whole  house  the  same. 
/  never  seen  people  look  so  helpless  and  tangled  up,  and  I 
hain't  ever  seen  eyes  bug  out  and  gaze  without  a  blink  the 
way  theirn  did.  Tom  says,  perfectly  ca'm — 

"  Your  honor,  may  I  speak  ?" 

"  For  God's  sake,  yes — go  on  !"  says  the  judge,  so  aston 
ished  and  mixed  up  he  didn't  know  what  he  was  about 
hardly. 

Then  Tom  he  stood  there  and  waited  a  second  or 
that  was  for  to  work  up  an  "effect,"  as  he  calls  it — then  ho] 
started  in  just  as  ca'm  as  ever,  and  says  : 

"  For  about  two  weeks,  now,  there's  been  a  little  bill  stick 
ing  on  the  front  of  this  court-house  offering  two  thousand 
dollars  reward  for  a  couple  of  big  di'monds  —  stole  at  St. 
Louis.  Them  di'monds  is  worth  twelve  thousand  dollars. 
But  never  mind  about  that  till  I  get  to  it.  Now  about  this 
murder.  I  will  tell  you  all  about  it — how  it  happened — who 
done  it — every  afctail." 

You  could  see  everybody  nestle,  now,  and  begin  to  listen  \/ 
for  all  they  was  worth. 

"This  man  here,  Brace  Dunlap,  that's  been  snivelling  so 
about  his  dead  brother  that  you  know  he  never  cared  a  straw 
for,  wanted  to  marry  that  young  girl  there,  and  she  wouldn't 
have  him.  So  he  told  Uncle  Silas  he  would  make  him  sor 
ry.  Uncle  Silas  knowed  how  powerful  he  was,  and  how  lit 
tle  chance  he  had  against  such  a  man,  and  he  was  scared 
and  worried,  and  done  everything  he  could  think  of  to  smooth 
him  over  and  get  him  to  be  good  to  him :  he  even  took  his 
no-account  brother  Jubiter  on  the  farm  and  give  him  wages 
and  stinted  his  own  family  to  pay  them ;  and  Jubiter  done 
everything  his  brother  could  contrive  to  insult  Uncle  Silas, 
and  fret  and  worry  him,  and  try  to  drive  Uncle  Silas  into 
doing  him  a  hurt,  so  as  to  injure  Uncle  Silas  with  the  people. 


r 


i8o 


And  it  done  it.  Everybody  turned  against  him  and  said 
the  meanest  kind  of  things  about  him,  and  it  graduly  broke 
his  heart  —  yes,  and  he  was  so  worried  and  distressed  that 
often  he  warn't  hardly  in  his  right  mind. 

"  Well,  on  that  Saturday  that  we've  had  so  much  trouble 
about,  two  of  these  witnesses  here,  Lem  Beebe  and  Jim  Lane, 
come  along  by  where  Uncle  Silas  and  Jubiter  Dunlap  was  at 
work — and  that  much  of  what  they've  said  is  true,  the  rest  is 
lies.  They  didn't  hear  Uncle  Silas  say  he  would  kill  Jubiter ; 
they  didn't  hear  no  blow  struck  ;  they  didn't  see  no  dead 
man,  and  they  didn't  see  Uncle  Silas  hide  anything  in  the 
bushes.  Look  at  them  now — how  they  set  there,  wishing 
they  hadn't  been  so  handy  with  their  tongues  ;  anyway, 
they'll  wish  it  before  I  get  done. 

"  That  same  Saturday  evening  Bill  and  Jack  Withers  did 
see  one  man  lugging  off  another  one.  That  much  of  what 
they  said  is  true,  and  the  rest  is  lies.  Fiist  off  they  thought 
it  was  a  nigger  stealing  Uncle  Silas's  corn — you  notice  it 
makes  them  look  silly,  now,  to  find  out  somebody  overheard 
them  say  that.  That's  because  they  found  out  by-and-by 
who  it  was  that  was  doing  the  lugging,  and  they  know  best 
why  they  swore  here  that  they  took  it  for  Uncle  Silas  by 
the  gait  —  which  it  wasrit,  and  they  knowed  it  when  they 
swore  to  that  lie. 

"  A  man  out  in  the  moonlight  did  see  a  murdered  person 
put  underground  in  the  tobacker-field — but  it  wasn't  Uncle 
Silas  that  done  the  burying.  He  was  in  his  bed  at  that 
very  time. 

"  Now,  then,  before  I  go  on,  I  want  to  ask  you  if  you've 
ever  noticed  this  :  that  people,  when  they're  thinking  deep, 
or  when  they're  worried,  are  most  always  doing  something 
with  their  hands,  and  they  don't  know  it,  and  don't  notice 
what  it  is  their  hands  are  doing.  Some  stroke  their  chins; 
some  stroke  their  noses ;  some  stroke  up  under  their  chin 


with  their  hand ;  some  twirl  a  chain,  some  fumble  a  button, 
then  there's  some  that  draws  a  figure  or  a  letter  with  their 
finger  on  their  cheek,  or  under  their  chin  or  on  their  under 
lip.  That's  my  way.  When  I'm  restless,  or  worried,  or 
thinking  hard,  I  draw  capital  V's  on  my  cheek  or  on  my  un 
der  lip  or  under  my  chin,  and  never  anything  but  capital 
V's — and  half  the  time  I  don't  notice  it  and  don't  know 
I'm  doing  it." 

That  was  odd.     That  is  just  what  I  do ;  only  I  make  an 
O.     And  I  could  see  people  nodding  to  one  another,  same  | 
as  they  do  when  they  mean  "thafs  so." 

"  Now  then,  I'll  go  on.  That  same  Saturday — no,  it  was 
the  night  before — there  was  a  steamboat  laying  at  Flagler's 
Landing,  forty  miles  above  here,  and  it  was  raining  and 
storming  like  the  nation.  And  there  was  a  thief  aboard, 
and  he  had  them  two  big  di'monds  that's  advertised  out 
here  on  this  court-house  door ;  and  he  slipped  ashore  with 
his  hand-bag  and  struck  out  into  the  dark  and  the  storm, 
and  he  was  a-hoping  he  could  get  to  this  town  all  right  and 
be  safe.  But  he  had  two  pals  aboard  the  boat,  hiding,  and 
he  knowed  they  was  going  to  kill  him  the  first  chance  they 
got  and  take  the  di'monds;  because  all  three  stole  them, 
and  then  this  fellow  he  got  hold  of  them  and  skipped. 

"Well,  he  hadn't  been  gone  more'n  ten  minutes  before 
his  pals  found  it  out,  and  they  jumped  ashore  and  lit  out 
after  him.  Prob'ly  they  burnt  matches  and  found  his 
tracks.  Anyway,  they  dogged  along  after  him  all  day  Sat 
urday  and  kept  out  of  his  sight ;  and  towards  sundown  he 
come  to  the  bunch  of  sycamores  down  by  Uncle  Silas's 
field,  and  he  went  in  there  to  get  a  disguise  out  of  his  hand 
bag  and  put  it  on  before  he  showed  himself  here  in  the 
town  —  and  mind  you  he  done  that  just  a  little  after  the 
time  that  Uncle  Silas  was  hitting  Jubiter  Dunlap  over  the 
head  with  a  club — for  he  did  hit  him. 


i 


182 


"  But  the  minute  the  pals  see  that  thief  slide  into  the 
bunch  of  sycamores,  they  jumped  out  of  the  bushes  and 
slid  in  after  him. 

"  They  fell  on  him  and  clubbed  him  to  death. 

"Yes,  for  all  he  screamed  and  howled  so,  they  never  had 
no  mercy  on  him,  but  clubbed  him  to  death.  And  two  men 
that  was  running  along  the  road  heard  him  yelling  that  way, 
and  they  made  a  rush  into  the  sycamore  bunch — which  was 
where  they  was  bound  for,  anyway — and  when  the  pals  saw 
them  they  lit  out  and  the  two  new  men  after  them  a-chasing 
them  as  tight  as  they  could  go.  But  only  a  minute  or  two 
— then  these  two  new  men  slipped  back  very  quiet  into  the 
sycamores. 

"  Then  what  did  they  do  ?  I  will  tell  you  what  they  done. 
They  found  where  the  thief  had  got  his  disguise  out  of  his 
carpet-sack  to  put  on ;  so  one  of  them  strips  and  puts  on 
that  disguise." 

Tom  waited  a  litttle  here,  for  some  more  "  effect  "—then 
he  says,  very  deliberate — 

C"  The  man  that  put  on  that  dead  man's  disguise  was — 
Jubiter  Dunlap  /" 
"  Great  Scott !"  everybody  shouted,  all  over  the  house, 
and  old  Uncle  Silas  he  looked  perfectly  astonished. 

"  Yes,  it  was  Jubiter  Dunlap.  Not  dead,  you  see.  Then 
they  pulled  off  the  dead  man's  boots  and  put  Jubiter  Dun- 
lap's  old  ragged  shoes  on  the  corpse  and  put  the  corpse's 
boots  on  Jubiter  Dunlap.  Then  Jubiter  Dunlap  stayed  where 
he  was,  and  the  other  man  lugged  the  dead  body  off  in  the 
twilight ;  and  after  midnight  he  went  to  Uncle  Silas's  house, 
and  took  his  old  green  work-robe  off  of  the  peg  where  it  al 
ways  hangs  in  the  passage  betwixt  the  house  and  the  kitch. 
en  and  put  it  on,  and  stole  the  long-handled  shovel  and 
went  off  down  into  the  tobacker-field  and  buried  the  mur 
dered  man." 


*•  AND  THERE  WAS  THE  MURDERED  MAN 


He  stopped,  and  stood  a  half  a  minute.     Then — 

"  And  who  do  you  reckon  the  murdered  man  was  ?  It 
was — Jake  Dunlap,  the  long-lost  burglar  !" 

"  Great  Scott !" 

"And  the  man  that  buried  him  was — Brace  Dunlap,  his   ^ 
brother !" 

"  Great  Scott !" 

"  And  who  do  you  reckon  is  this  mowing  idiot  here  that's 
letting  on  all  these  weeks  to  be  a  deef  and  dumb  stranger  ?  \/ 
Ws—Jubitfr  Dunlap  !" 

My  land,  they  all  busted  out  in  a  howl,  and  you  never 
see  the  like  of  that  excitement  since  the  day  you  was  born. 
And  Tom  he  made  a  jump  for  Jupiter  and  snaked  off  his 
goggles  and  his  false  whiskers,  and  there  was  the  murdered 
man,  sure  enough,  just  as  alive  as  anybody!  And  Aunt 
Sally  and  Benny  they  went  to  hugging  and  crying  and  kiss 
ing  and  smothering  old  Uncle  Silas  to  that  degree  he  was 
more  muddled  and  confused  and  mushed  up  in  his  mind 
than  he  ever  was  before,  and  that  is  saying  considerable. 
And  next,  people  begun  to  yell — 

"  Tom  Sawyer  !  Tom  Sawyer !  Shut  up  everybody,  and 
let  him  go  on  !  Go  on,  Tom  Sawyer !" 

Which  made  him  feel  uncommon  bully,  for  it  was  nuts 
for  Tom  Sawyer  to  be  a  public  character  thataway,  and  a 
hero,  as  he  calls  it.  So  when  it  was  all  quiet,  he  says — 

"  There  ain't  much  left,  only  this.  When  that  man  there, 
Brace  Dunlap,  had  most  worried  the  life  and  sense  out  of 
Uncle  Silas  till  at  last  he  pLum  lost  his  mind  and  hit  this 
other  blatherskite  his  brother  with  a  club,  I  reckon  he  seen 
his  chance.  Jubiter  broke  for  the  woods  to  hide,  and  I 
reckon  the  game  was  for  him  to  slide  out,  in  the  night,  and 
leave  the  country.  Then  Brace  would  make  everybody 
believe  Uncle  Silas  killed  him  and  hid  his  body  somers  ; 
and  that  would  ruin  Uncle  Silas  and  drive  him  out  of  the 


1 54 

country — hang  him,  maybe;  I  dunno.  But  when  they 
found  their  dead  brother  in  the  sycamores  without  knowing 
him,  because  he  was  so  battered  up,  they  see  they  had  a 
better  thing ;  disguise  both  and  bury  Jake  and  dig  him  up 
presently  all  dressed  up  in  Jubiter's  clothes,  and  hire  Jim 
Lane  and  Bill  Withers  and  the  others  to  swear  to  some 
handy  lies — which  they  done.  And  there  they  set,  now, 
and  I  told  them  they  would  be  looking  sick  before  I  got 
done,  and  that  is  the  way  they're  looking  now. 

"Well,  me  and  Huck  Finn  here,  we  come  down  on  the 
boat  with  the  thieves,  and  the  dead  one  told  us  all  about 
the  diamonds,  and  said  the  others  would  murder  him  if  they 
got  the  chance  ;  and  we  was  going  to  help  him  all  we  could. 
We  was  bound  for  the  sycamores  when  we  heard  them  kill 
ing  him  in  there ;  but  we  was  in  there  in  the  early  morning 
after  the  storm  and  allowed  nobody  hadn't  been  killed,  after 
all.  And  when  we  see  Jubiter  Dunlap  here  spreading 
around  in  the  very  same  disguise  Jake  told  us  he  was  going 
to  wear,  we  thought  it  was  Jake  his  own  self  —  and  he  was 
goo-gooing  deef  and  dumb,  and  that  was  according  to 
agreement. 

"Well,  me  and  Huck  went  on  hunting  for  the  corpse 
after  the  others  quit,  and  we  found  it.  And  was  proud, 
too ;  but  Uncle  Silas  he  knocked  us  crazy  by  telling  us  He 
killed  the  man.  So  we  was  mighty  sorry  we  found  the 
body,  and  was  bound  to  save  Uncle  Silas's  neck  if  we  could, 
and  it  was  going  to  be  tough  work,  too,  because  he  wouldn't 
let  us  break  him  out  of  prison  the  way  we  done  with  our  old 
nigger  Jim. 

"  I  done  everything  I  could  the  whole  month  to  think  up 
some  way  to  save  Uncle  Silas,  but  I  couldn't  strike  a  thing. 
So  when  we  come  into  court  to-day  I  come  empty,  and 
couldn't  see  no  chance  anywheres.  But  by-and-by  I  had  a 
glimpse  of  something  that  set  me  thinking — just  a  little  wee 


;'  WHICH    MADE    HIM    FEEL    UNCOMMON    BULLY 


glimpse — only  that,  and  not  enough  to  make  sure  ;  but  it  I 
set  me  thinking  hard — and  watching,  when  I  was  only  let 
ting  on  to  think ;  and  by-and-by,  sure  enough,  when  Uncle 
Silas  was  piling  out  that  stuff  about  him  killing  Jubiter  Dun- 
lap,  I  catched  that  glimpse  again,  and  this  time  I  jumped 
up  and  shut  down  the  proceedings,  because  I  knowed  Jubi 
ter  Dunlap  was  a-setting  here  before  me.  JL  knowed  him 
by  a  thing  which  1  seen  him  do — and  I  remembered  it.  I'd 
seen  him  do  it  when  I  was  here  a  year  ago."  . 

He  stopped  then,  and  studied  a  minute — laying  for  an  I 
"effect" — I  knowed  it  perfectly  well.  Then  he  turned  off  1 
like  he  was  going  to  leave  the  platform,  and  says,  kind  of  ' 
lazy  and  indifferent —  1 

"  Well,  I  believe  that  is  all." 

Why,  you  never  heard  such  a  howl !  —  and  it  come  from 
the  whole  house : 

"  What  was  it  you  seen  him  do  ?  Stay  where  you  are, 
you  little  devil !  You  think  you  are  going  to  work  a  body 
up  till  his  mouth's  a-watering  and  stop  there  ?  What  was  it 
he  done  ?" 

That  was  it,  you  see — he  just  done  it  to  get  an  "  effect "; 
you  couldn't  'a'  pulled  him  off  of  that  platform  with  a  yoke 
of  oxen.  ~~*  7 

"  Oh,  it  wasn't  anything  much,"  he  says.  "  I  seen  him 
looking  a  little  excited  when  he  found  Uncle  Silas  was 
actuly  fixing  to  hang  himself  for  a  murder  that  warn't  ever 
done ;  and  he  got  more  and  more  nervous  and  worried,  I 
a-watching  him  sharp  but  not  seeming  to  look  at  him — and 
all  of  a  sudden  his  hands  begun  to  work  and  fidget,  and 
pretty  soon  his  left  crept  up  and  his  finger  drawed  a  cross  on  \ 
his  cheek,  and  then  I  had  him  !"  • 1 

Well,  then  they  ripped  and  howled  and  stomped  and 
clapped  their  hands  till  Tom  Sawyer  was  that  proud 
and  happy  he  didn't  know  what  to  do  with  himself.  And 


i86 


then  the  judge  he  looked  down  over  his  pulpit  and 
says- 

"  My  boy,  did  you  see  jail  the  various  details  of  this 
strange  conspiracy  and  tragedy  that  you've  been  describ 
ing?" 

"  No,  your  honor,  I  didn't  see  any  of  them." 

"  Didn't  see  any  of  them !  Why,  you've  told  the.  Wfible 
history  straight  through,  just  the  same  as  if  you'd  ,vseen  it 
with  your  eyes.  How  did  you  manage  that  ?" 

Tom  says,  kind  of  easy  and  comfortable — 

"  Oh,  just  noticing  the  evidence  and  piecing  this  and  that 
together,  your  honor  ;  just. , an  ordinary  little  bit  of  detec 
tive  work  ;  anybody  could  'a1  done  it." 

"  Nothing  of  the  kind  !  Not  two  in  a  million  could  'a' 
done  it.  You  are  a  very  remarkable  boy." 

Then  they  let  go  and  give  Tom  another  smashing  round, 
and  he — well,  he  wouldn't  'a'  sold  out  for  a  silver  mine. 
Then  the  judge  says — 

"  But  are  you  certain  you've  got  this  curious  history 
straight  ?" 

"  Perfectly,  your  honor.  Here  is  Brace  Dunlap  —  let 
him  deny  his  share  of  it  if  he  wants  to  take  the  chance;  I'll 
engage  to  make  him  wish  he  hadn't  said  anything.  .  .  . 
Well,  you  see  he's  pretty  quiet.  And  his  brother's  pretty 
quiet,  and  them  four  witnesses  that  lied  so  and  got  paid  for 
it,  they're  pretty  quiet.  And  as  for  Uncle  Silas,  it  ain't  any 
use  for  him  to  put  in  his  oar,  I  wouldn't  believe  him  under 
oath  1" 

Well,  sir,  that  fairly  made  them  shout ;  and  even  the 
judge  he  let  go  and  laughed.  Tom  he  wa^  just  feeling  like 
a  rainbow.  When  they  was  done  laughing  he  looks  up  at 
the  judge  and  says — 

"Your  honor,  there's  a  thief  in  this  house." 

"A  thief?" 


i87 


"Yes,  sir.  And  he's  got  them  twelve  -  thousand  -  dollar 
di'monds  on  him." 

By  gracious,  but  it  made  a  stir !  Everybody  went  shout 
ing— 

"  Which  is  him  ?  which  is  him  ?  p'int  him  out !" 

And  the  judge  says — 

"Point  him  out,  my  lad.  Sheriff,  you  will  arrest  him. 
Which  one  is  it?" 

Tom  says — 

"  This  late  dead  man  here — Jubiter  Dunlap." 

Then  there  was  another  thundering  let-go  of  astonish 
ment  and  excitement ;  but  Jubiter,  which  was  astonished 
enough  before,  was  just  fairly  putrefied  with  astonishment 
this  time.  And  he  spoke  up,  about  half  crying,  and 
says — 

"  Now  thafs  a  lie  !  Your  honor,  it  ain't  fair ;  I'm  plenty 
bad  enough  without  that.  I  done  the  other  things — Brace 
he  put  me  up  to  it,  and  persuaded  me,  and  promised  he'd 
make  me  rich,  some  day,  and  I  done  it,  and  I'm  sorry  I 
done  it,  and  I  wisht  I  hadn't;  but  I  hain't  stole  no  di' 
monds,  and  I  hain't  got  no  di'monds ;  I  wisht  I  may 
never  stir  if  it  ain't  so.  The  sheriff  can  search  me  and 
see." 

Tom  says — 

"  Your  honor,  it  wasn't  right  to  call  him  a  thief,  and  I'll 
let  up  on  that  a  little.  He  did  steal  the  di'monds,  but  he 
didn't  know  it.  He  stole  them  from  his  brother  Jake  when 
he  was  laying  dead,  after  Jake  had  stole  them  from  the 
other  thieves ,  but  Jubiter  didn't  know  he  was  stealing 
them ;  and  he's  been  swelling  around  here  with  them  a 
month  ;  yes,  sir,  twelve  thousand  dollars'  jvorth  of  di'monds 
on  him — all  that  riches,  and  going  around  here  every  day 
just  like  a  poor  man.  Yes,  your  honor,  he's  got  them  on 
him  now." 


188 


The  judge  spoke  up  and  says — 

"Search  him,  sheriff." 

Well,  sir,  the  sheriff  he  ransacked  him  high  and  low,  and 
everywhere :  searched  his  hat,  socks,  seams,  boots,  every 
thing — and  Tom  he  stood  there  quiet,  laying  for  anoth 
er  of  them  effects  of  hisn.  Finally  the  sheriff  he  give 
it  up,  and  everybody  looked  disappointed,  and  Jubiter 
says — 

"  There,  now  !  what'd  I  tell  you  ?" 

And  the  judge  says — 

"  It  appears  you  were  mistaken  this  time,  my  boy." 

Then  Tom  he  took  an  attitude  and  let  on  to  be  studying 
with  all  his  might,  and  scratching  his  head.  Then  all  of  a 
sudden  he  glanced  up  chipper,  and  says — 

"  Oh,  now  I've  got  it !     I'd  forgot." 

Which  was  a  lie,  and  I  knowed  it.     Then  he  says— 

"Will  somebody  be  good  enough  to  lend  me  a  little  small 
screw-driver?  There  was  one  in  your  brother's  hand-bag 
that  you  smouched,  Jubiter,  but  I  reckon  you  didn't  fetch 
it  with  you." 

"  No,  I  didn't.     I  didn't  want  it,  and  I  give  it  away." 

"  That  was  because  you  didn't  know  what  it  was  for." 

Jubiter  had  his  boots  on  again,  by  now,  and  when  the 
thing  Tom  wanted  was  passed  over  the  people's  heads  till 
it  got  to  him,  he  says  to  Jubiter — 

"  Put  up  your  foot  on  this  chair."  And  he  kneeled  down 
and  begun  to  unscrew  the  heel-plate,  everybody  watching-, 
and  when  he  got  that  big  di'mond  out  of  that  boot- heel 
and  held  it  up  and  let  it  flash  and  blaze  and  squirt  sunlight 
everwhichaway,  it  just  took  everybody's  breath  ;  and  Jubiter 
he  looked  so  sick  and  sorry  you  never  see  the  like  of  it. 
And  when  Tom  held  up  the  other  di'mond  he  looked  sorrier 
than  ever.  Land!  he  was  thinking  how  he  would  'a'  skipped 
out  and  been  rich  and  independent  in  a  foreign  land  if  he'd 


189 

only  had  the  luck  to  guess  what  the  screw-driver  was  in 
the  carpet-bag  for. 

Well,  it  was  a  most  exciting  time,  take  it  all  around,  and 
Tom  got  cords  of  glory.  The  judge  took  the  di'monds,  and 
stood  up  in  his  pulpit,  and  cleared  his  throat,  and  shoved 
his  spectacles  back  on  his  head,  and  says — 

"  I'll  keep  them  and  notify  the  owners ;  and  when  they 
send  for  them  it  will  be  a  real  pleasure  to  me  to  hand 
you  the  two  thousand  dollars,  for  you've  earned  the  money 
— yes,  and  you've  earned  the  deepest  and  most  sincerest  l\ 
thanks  of  this  community  besides,  for  lifting  a  wronged 
and  innocent  family  out  of  ruin  and  shame,  and  saving  a 
good  and  honorable  man  from  a  felon's  death,  and  for  ex 
posing  to  infamy  and  the  punishment  of  the  law  a  cruel 
and  odious  scoundrel  and  his  miserable  creatures !" 

Well,  sir,  if  there'd  been  a  brass  band  to  bust  out  some 
music,  then,  it  would  'a'  been  just  the  perfectest  thing  I  ever 
see,  and  Tom  Sawyer  he  said  the  same. 

Then  the  sheriff  he  nabbed  Brace  Dunlap  and  his  crowd, 
and  by-and-by  next  month  the  judge  had  them  up  for  trial 
and  jailed  the  whole  lot.  And  everybody  crowded  back  to 
Uncle  Silas's  little  old  church,  and  was  ever  so  loving  and 
kind  to  him  and  the  family  and  couldn't  do  enough  for 
them ;  and  Uncle  Silas  he  preached  them  the  blamedest 
jumbledest  idiotic  sermons  you  ever  struck,  and  would  tan 
gle  you  up  so  you  couldn't  find  your  way  home  in  daylight; 
but  the  people  never  let  on  but  what  they  thought  it  was 
the  clearest  and  brightest  and  elegantest  sermons  that  ever 
was ;  and  they  would  set  there  and  cry,  for  love  and  pity ; 
but,  by  George,  they  give  me  the  jim-jams  and  the  fan-tods 
and  caked  up  what  brains  I  had,  and  turned  them  solid ; 
but  by-and-by  they  loved  the  old  man's  intellects  back  into 
him  again  and  he  was  as  sound  in  his  skull  as  ever  he  was,  > 
which  ain't  no  flattery,  I  reckon.  And  so 


I9Q 

P»» 

was  as  happy  as  birds,  and  nobody  could  be  gratefuler  and 
lovinger  than  what  they  was  to  Tom  Sawyer ;  and  the  same 
to  me,  though  I  hadn't  done  nothing.  And  when  the  two 
thousand  dollars  come,  Tom  give  half  of  it  to  me,  and  never 
told  anybody  so,  which  didn't  surprise  me,  because  I  knowed 
him. 


THE  STOLEN  WHITE   ELEPHANT 

AND  OTHER  STORIES 


THE  STOLEN  WHITE  ELEPHANT* 


THE  following  curious  history  was  related  to  me  by  a 
chance  railway  acquaintance.  He  was  a  gentleman  more 
than  seventy  years  of  age,  and  his  thoroughly  good  and 
gentle  face  and  earnest  and  sincere  manner  imprinted  the 
unmistakable  stamp  of  truth  upon  every  statement  which 
fell  from  his  lips.  He  said — 

You  know  in  what  reverence  the  royal  white  elephant  of 
Siam  is  held  by  the  people  of  that  country.  You  know  it 
is  sacred  to  kings,  only  kings  may  possess  it,  and  that  it  is 
indeed  in  a  measure  even  superior  to  kings,  since  it  receives 
not  merely  honor  but  worship.  Very  well  ;  five  years  ago, 
when  the  troubles  concerning  the  frontier  line  arose  between 
Great  Britain  and  Siam,  it  was  presently  manifest  that 
Siam  had  been  in  the  wrong.  Therefore  every  reparation 
was  quickly  made,  and  the  British  representative  stated 
that  he  was  satisfied  and  the  past  should  be  forgotten. 
This  greatly  relieved  the  King  of  Siam,  and  partly  as  a 
token  of  gratitude,  but  partly  also,  perhaps,  to  wipe  out  any 

*  Left  out  of  "  A  Tramp  Abroad,"  because  it  was  feared  that  some  of 
the  particulars  had  been  exaggerated,  and  that  others  were  not  true. 
Before  these  suspicions  had  been  proven  groundless,  the  book  had  gone 
to  press. — M.  T. 


192 

little  remaining  vestige  of  unpleasantness  which  England 
might  feel  towards  him,  he  wished  to  send  the  Queen  a 
present — the  sole  sure  way  of  propitiating  an  enemy, 
according  to  Oriental  ideas.  This  present  ought  not  only 
to  be  a  royal  one,  but  transcendently  royal.  Wherefore, 
what  offering  could  be  so  meet  as  that  of  a  white  elephant  ? 
My  position  in  the  Indian  civil  service  was  such  that  I  was 
deemed  peculiarly  worthy  of  the  honor  of  conveying  the 
present  to  her  Majesty.  A  ship  was  fitted  out  for  me  and 
my  servants  and  the  officers  and  attendants  of  the  elephant, 
and  in  due  time  I  arrived  in  New  York  harbor  and  placed 
my  royal  charge  in  admirable  quarters  in  Jersey  City.  It 
was  necessary  to  remain  awhile  in  order  to  recruit  the 
animal's  health  before  resuming  the  voyage. 

All  went  well  during  a  fortnight  —  then  my  calamities 
began.  The  white  elephant  was  stolen  !  I  was  called  up  at 
dead  of  night  and  informed  of  this  fearful  misfortune.  For 
some  moments  I  was  beside  myself  with  terror  and  anxiety; 
I  was  helpless.  Then  I  grew  calmer  and  collected  my 
faculties.  I  soon  saw  my  course — for  indeed  there  was 
but  the  one  course  for  an  intelligent  man  to  pursue.  Late 
as  it  was,  I  flew  to  New  York  and  got  a  policeman  to  con 
duct  me  to  the  headquarters  of  the  detective  force.  Fort 
unately  I  arrived  in  time,  though  the  chief  of  the  force,  the 
celebrated  Inspector  Blunt,  was  just  on  the  point  of  leaving 
for  his  home.  He  was  a  man  of  middle  size  and  compact 
frame,  and  when  he  was  thinking  deeply  he  had  a  way  of 
knitting  his  brows  and  tapping  his  forehead  reflectively  with 
his  finger,  which  impressed  you  at  once  with  the  conviction 
that  you  stood  in  the  presence  of  a  person  of  no  common 
order.  The  very  sight  of  him  gave  me  confidence  and 
made  me  hopeful.  I  stated  my  errand.  It  did  not  flurry 
him  in  the  least ;  it  had  no  more  visible  effect  upon  his 
iron  self-possession  than  if  I  had  told  him  somebody  had 


193 

stolen  my  dog.  He  motioned  me  to  a  seat,  and  said, 
calmly — 

"  Allow  me  to  think  a  moment,  please." 

So  saying,  he  sat  down  at  his  office  table  and  leaned  his 
head  upon  his  hand.  Several  clerks  were  at  work  at  the 
other  end  of  the  room ;  the  scratching  of  their  pens  was  all 
the  sound  I  heard  during  the  next  six  or  seven  minutes. 
Meantime  the  inspector  sat  there,  buried  in  thought.  Finally 
he  raised  his  head,  and  there  was  that  in  the  firm  lines  of 
his  face  which  showed  me  that  his  brain  had  done  its  work 
and  his  plan  was  made.  Said  he — and  his  voice  was  low 
and  impressive — 

"This  is  no  ordinary  case.  Every  step  must  be  warily 
taken  ;  each  step  must  be  made  sure  before  the  next  is  vent 
ured.  And  secrecy  must  be  observed — secrecy  profound 
and  absolute.  Speak  to  no  one  about  the  matter,  not  even 
the  reporters.  I  will  take  care  of  them  ;  I  will  see  that  they 
get  only  what  it  may  suit  my  ends  to  let  them  know."  He 
touched  a  bell;  a  youth  appeared.  "Alaric,  tell  the  re 
porters  to  remain  for  the  present."  The  boy  retired.  "  Now 
let  us  proceed  to  business  —  and  systematically.  Nothing 
can  be  accomplished  in  this  trade  of  mine  without  strict  and 
minute  method." 

He  took  a  pen  and  some  paper.  "Now — name  of  the 
elephant  ?" 

"  Hassan  Ben  Ali  Ben  Selim  Abdallah  Mohammed  Moise 
Alhammal  Jamsetjejeebhoy  Dhuleep  Sultan  Ebu  Bhud- 
poor." 

"  Very  well.     Given  name  ?" 

"Jumbo." 

"  Very  well.     Place  of  birth  ?" 

"  The  capital  city  of  Siam." 

"  Parents  living  ?" 

"  No— dead." 


194 

"  Had  they  any  other  issue  besides  this  one  ?" 

"  None.     He  was  an  only  child." 

"Very  well.  These  matters  are  sufficient  under  that 
head.  Now  please  describe  the  elephant,  and  leave  out  no 
particular,  however  insignificant  —  that  is,  insignificant  from 
your  point  of  view.  To  men  in  my  profession  there  are  no 
insignificant  particulars ;  they  do  not  exist." 

I  described— he  wrote.     When  I  was  done,  he  said — 

"Now  listen.    If  I  have  made  any  mistakes,  correct  me." 

He  read  as  follows — 

"  Height,  19  feet ;  length  from  apex  of  forehead  to  inser 
tion  of  tail,  26  feet;  length  of  trunk,  16  feet ;  length  of  tail, 
6  feet  j  total  length,  including  trunk  and  tail,  48  feet ;  length 
of  tusks,  9^  feet ;  ears  in  keeping  with  these  dimensions ; 
footprint  resembles  the  mark  left  when  one  up-ends  a  barrel 
in  the  snow ;  color  of  the  elephant,  a  dull  white;  has  a  hole 
the  size  of  a  plate  in  each  ear  for  the  insertion  of  jewelry, 
and  possesses  the  habit  in  a  remarkable  degree  of  squirting 
water  upon  spectators  and  of  maltreating  with  his  trunk  not 
only  such  persons  as  he  is  acquainted  with,  but  even  entire 
strangers ;  limps  slightly  with  his  right  hind  leg,  and  has  a 
small  scar  in  his  left  armpit  caused  by  a  former  boil ;  had 
on,  when  stolen,  a  castle  containing  seats  for  fifteen  persons, 
and  a  gold-cloth  saddle-blanket  the  size  of  an  ordinary 
carpet." 

There  were  no  mistakes.  The  inspector  touched  the 
bell,  handed  the  description  to  Alaric,  and  said — 

"  Have  fifty  thousand  copies  of  this  printed  at  once  and 
mailed  to  every  detective  office  and  pawnbroker's  shop  on 
the  continent."  Alaric  retired.  "  There — so  far,  so  good. 
Next,  I  must  have  a  photograph  of  the  property." 

I  gave  him  one.     He  examined  it  critically,  and  said — 

"  It  must  do,  since  we  can  do  no  better ;  but  he  has  his 
trunk  curled  up  and  tucked  into  his  mouth.  That  is  un- 


195 

fortunate,  and  is  calculated  to  mislead,  for  of  course  he  does 
not  usually  have  it  in  that  position."  He  touched  his  bell. 

"Alaric,  have  fifty  thousand  copies  of  this  photograph 
made,  the  first  thing  in  the  morning,  and  mail  them  with 
the  descriptive  circulars." 

Alaric  retired  to  execute  his  orders.  The  inspector 
said — 

"  It  will  be  necessary  to  offer  a  reward,  of  course.  Now 
as  to  the  amount  ?" 

"  What  sum  would  you  suggest  ?" 

"  To  begin  with,  I  should  say — well,  twenty-five  thousand 
dollars.  It  is  an  intricate  and  difficult  business  ;  there  are 
a  thousand  avenues  of  escape  and  opportunities  of  conceal 
ment.  These  thieves  have  friends  and  pals  everywhere — " 

"  Bless  me,  do  you  know  who  they  are  ?" 

The  wary  face,  practised  in  concealing  the  thoughts  and 
feelings  within,  gave  me  no  token,  nor  yet  the  replying 
words,  so  quietly  uttered — 

"  Never  mind  about  that.  I  may,  and  I  may  not.  We 
generally  gather  a  pretty  shrewd  inkling  of  who  our  man  is 
by  the  manner  of  his  work  and  the  size  of  the  game  he  goes 
after.  We  are  not  dealing  with  a  pickpocket  or  a  hall  thief, 
now,  make  up  your  mind  to  that.  This  property  was  not 
'  lifted '  by  a  novice.  But,  as  I  was  saying,  considering  the 
amount  of  travel  which  will  have  to  be  done,  and  the  dili 
gence  with  which  the  thieves  will  cover  up  their  traces  as 
they  move  along,  twenty-five  thousand  may  be  too  small 
a  sum  to  offer,  yet  I  think  it  worth  while  to  start  with 
that." 

So  we  determined  upon  that  figure  as  a  beginning.  Then 
this  man,  whom  nothing  escaped  which  could  by  any  possi 
bility  be  made  to  serve  as  a  clew,  said — 

"There  are  cases  in  detective  history  to  show  that  crim 
inals  have  been  detected  through  peculiarities  in  their  ap- 


196 

petites.  Now,  what  does  this  elephant  eat,  and  how 
much  ?" 

"  Well,  as  to  what  he  eats  —  he  will  eat  anything.  He 
will  eat  a  man,  he  will  eat  a  Bible — he  will  eat  anything  be 
tween  a  man  and  a  Bible." 

"  Good — very  good  indeed,  but  too  general.  Details  are 
necessary — details  are  the  only  valuable  things  in  our  trade. 
Very  well — as  to  men.  At  one  meal — or,  if  you  prefer,  dur 
ing  one  day — how  many  men  will  he  eat,  if  fresh  ?" 

"  He  would  not  care  whether  they  were  fresh  or  not;  at  a 
single  meal  he  would  eat  five  ordinary  men." 

"  Very  good ;  five  men ;  we  will  put  that  down.  What 
nationalities  would  he  prefer  ?" 

"  He  is  indifferent  about  nationalities.  He  prefers  ac 
quaintances,  but  is  not  prejudiced  against  strangers." 

"Very  good.  Now,  as  to  Bibles.  How  many  Bibles 
would  he  eat  at  a  meal  ?" 

"  He  would  eat  an  entire  edition." 

"  It  is  hardly  succinct  enough.  Do  you  mean  the  ordi 
nary  octavo,  or  the  family  illustrated  ?" 

"  I  think  he  would  be  indifferent  to  illustrations  ;  that  is, 
I  think  he  would  not  value  illustrations  above  simple  letter 
press." 

"  No,  you  do  not  get  my  idea.  I  refer  to  bulk.  The  or 
dinary  octavo  Bible  weighs  about  two  pounds  and  a  half, 
while  the  great  quarto  with  the  illustrations  weighs  ten  or 
twelve.  How  many  Dore  Bibles  would  he  eat  at  a  meal  ?" 

"  If  you  knew  this  elephant,  you  could  not  ask.  He  would 
take  what  they  had." 

"  Well,  put  it  in  dollars  and  cents,  then.  We  must  get  at 
it  somehow.  The  Dord  costs  a  hundred  dollars  a  copy, 
Russia  leather,  bevelled." 

"  He  would  require  about  fifty  thousand  dollars'  worth — 
say  an  edition  of  five  hundred  copies." 


197 

"Now  that  is  more  exact.  I  will  put  that  down.  Very 
well ;  he  likes  men  and  Bibles  ;  so  far,  so  good.  What  else 
will  he  eat  ?  I  want  particulars." 

"  He  will  leave  Bibles  to  eat  bricks,  he  will  leave  bricks 
to  eat  bottles,  he  will  leave  bottles  to  eat  clothing,  he  will 
leave  clothing  to  eat  cats,  he  will  leave  cats  to  eat  oysters, 
he  will  leave  oysters  to  eat  ham,  he  will  leave  ham  to  eat 
sugar,  he  will  leave  sugar  to  eat  pie,  he  will  leave  pie  to  eat 
potatoes,  he  will  leave  potatoes  to  eat  bran,  he  will  leave 
bran  to  eat  hay,  he  will  leave  hay  to  eat  oats,  he  will  leave 
oats  to  eat  rice,  for  he  was  mainly  raised  on  it.  There  is 
nothing  whatever  that  he  will  not  eat  but  European  butter, 
and  he  would  eat  that  if  he  could  taste  it." 

"  Very  good.     General  quantity  at  a  meal — say  about — " 

"  Well,  anywhere  from  a  quarter  to  half  a  ton." 

"  And  he  drinks—" 

"  Everything  that  is  fluid.  Milk,  water,  whiskey,  molasses, 
castor  oil,  camphene,  carbolic  acid — it  is  no  use  to  go  into 
particulars  ;  whatever  fluid  occurs  to  you  set  it  down.  He 
will  drink  anything  that  is  fluid,  except  European  coffee." 

"  Very  good.     As  to  quantity  ?" 

"  Put  it  down  five  to  fifteen  barrels — his  thirst  varies  ;  his 
other  appetites  do  not." 

"  These  things  are  unusual.  They  ought  to  furnish  quite 
good  clews  toward  tracing  him." 

He  touched  the  bell. 

"  Alaric,  summon  Captain  Burns." 

Burns  appeared.  Inspector  Blunt  unfolded  the  whole 
matter  to  him,  detail  by  detail.  Then  he  said  in  the  clear, 
decisive  tones  of  a  man  whose  plans  are  clearly  defined  in 
his  head,  and  who  is  accustomed  to  command — 

"  Captain  Burns,  detail  Detectives  Jones,  Davis,  Halsey? 
Bates,  and  Hackett  to  shadow  the  elephant." 

"  Yes,  sir." 


"  Detail  Detectives  Moses,  Dakin,  Murphy,  Rogers, 
Tupper,  Higgins,  and  Bartholomew  to  shadow  the  thieves." 

"  Yes,  sir." 

"Place  a  strong  guard  —  a  guard  of  thirty  picked  men,, 
with  a  relief  of  thirty  —  over  the  place  from  whence  the 
elephant  was  stolen,  to  keep  strict  watch  there  night  and 
day,  and  allow  none  to  approach — except  reporters — with 
out  written  authority  from  me." 

"  Yes,  sir." 

"  Place  detectives  in  plain  clothes  in  the  railway,  steam 
ship,  and  ferry  depots,  and  upon  all  roadways  leading  out  of 
Jersey  City,  with  orders  to  search  all  suspicious  persons." 

"  Yes,  sir." 

"  Furnish  all  these  men  with  photograph  and  accompany 
ing  description  of  the  elephant,  and  instruct  them  to  search 
all  trains  and  outgoing  ferry-boats  and  other  vessels." 

"  Yes,  sir." 

"  If  the  elephant  should  be  found,  let  him  be  seized,  and 
the  information  forwarded  to  me  by  telegraph." 

"  Yes,  sir." 

"  Let  me  be  informed  at  once  if  any  clews  should  be 
found — footprints  of  the  animal,  or  anything  of  that  kind." 

"  Yes,  sir." 

"Get  an  order  commanding  the  harbor  police  to  patrol 
the  frontages  vigilantly." 

"  Yes,  sir." 

"  Despatch  detectives  in  plain  clothes  over  all  the  rail 
ways,  north  as  far  as  Canada,  west  as  far  as  Ohio,  south  as 
far  as  Washington." 

"  Yes,  sir." 

"  Place  experts  in  all  the  telegraph  offices  to  listen  to  all 
messages ;  and  let  them  require  that  all  cipher  despatches 
be  interpreted  to  them." 

"  Yes,  sir." 


199 

"  Let  all  these  things  be  done  with  the  utmost  secrecy — 
mind,  the  most  impenetrable  secrecy." 

"  Yes,  sir." 

"  Report  to  me  promptly  at  the  usual  hour." 

"  Yes,  sir." 

"  Go  !" 

"  Yes,  sir." 

He  was  gone. 

Inspector  Blunt  was  silent  and  thoughtful  a  moment, 
while  the  fire  in  his  eye  cooled  down  and  faded  out.  Then 
he  turned  to  me  and  said  in  a  placid  voice — 

"  I  am  not  given  to  boasting,  it  is  not  my  habit ;  but  — 
we  shall  find  the  elephant." 

I  shook  him  warmly  by  the  hand  and  thanked  him ;  and 
I  felt  my  thanks,  too.  The  more  I  had  seen  of  the  man 
the  more  I  liked  him,  and  the  more  I  admired  him  and 
marvelled  over  the  mysterious  wonders  of  his  profession. 
Then  we  parted  for  the  night,  and  I  went  home  with  a  far 
happier  heart  than  I  had  carried  with  me  to  his  office. 


II 

NEXT  morning  it  was  all  in  the  newspapers,  in  the  mi 
nutest  detail.  It  even  had  additions — consisting  of  De 
tective  This,  Detective  That,  and  Detective  The  Other's 
"Theory"  as  to  how  the  robbery  was  done,  who  the  rob 
bers  were,  and  whither  they  had  flown  with  their  booty. 
There  were  eleven  of  these  theories,  and  they  covered  all 
the  possibilities ;  and  this  single  fact  shows  what  indepen 
dent  thinkers  detectives  are.  No  two  theories  were  alike, 
or  even  much  resembled  each  other,  save  in  one  striking 
particular,  and  in  that  one  all  the  eleven  theories  were  ab 
solutely  agreed.  That  was,  that  although  the  rear  of  my 
building  was  torn  out  and  the  only  door  remained  locked, 
the  elephant  had  not  been  removed  through  the  rent,  but 
by  some  other  (undiscovered)  outlet.  All  agreed  that  the 
robbers  had  made  that  rent  only  to  mislead  the  detectives. 
That  never  would  have  occurred  to  me  or  to  any  other  lay 
man,  perhaps,  but  it  had  not  deceived  the  detectives  for  a 
moment.  Thus,  what  I  had  supposed  was  the  only  thing 
that  had  no  mystery  about  it  was  in  fact  the  very  thing  I 
had  gone  furthest  astray  in.  The  eleven  theories  all  named 
the  supposed  robbers,  but  no  two  named  the  same  robbers  ; 
the  total  number  of  suspected  persons  was  thirty-seven. 
The  various  newspaper  accounts  all  closed  with  the  most 
important  opinion  of  all  —  that  of  Chief  Inspector  Blunt. 
A  portion  of  this  statement  read  as  follows  :— 

"  The  chief  knows  who  the  two  principals  are,  namely,  '  Brick '  Duf 
fy  and  '  Red '  McFadden.  Ten  days  before  the  robbery  was  achieved 


2OI 


he  was  already  aware  that  it  was  to  be  attempted,  and  had  quietly  pro 
ceeded  to  shadow  these  two  noted  villains  ;  but  unfortunately  on  the 
night  in  question  their  track  was  lost,  and  before  it  could  be  found  again 
the  bird  was  flown — that  is,  the  elephant. 

"  Duffy  and  McFadden  are  the  boldest  scoundrels  in  the  profession  ; 
the  chief  has  reasons  for  believing  that  they  are  the  men  who  stole  the 
stove  out  of  the  detective  headquarters  on  a  bitter  night  last  winter — 
in  consequence  of  which  the  chief  and  every  detective  present  were  in 
the  hands  of  the  physicians  before  morning,  some  with  frozen  feet,  oth 
ers  with  frozen  fingers,  ears,  and  other  members." 

When  I  read  the  first  half  of  that  I  was  more  astonished 
than  ever  at  the  wonderful  sagacity  of  this  strange  man. 
He  not  only  saw  everything  in  the  present  with  a  clear  eye, 
but  even  the  future  could  not  be  hidden  from  him.  I  was 
soon  at  his  office,  and  said  I  could  not  help  wishing  he  had 
had  those  men  arrested,  and  so  prevented  the  trouble  and 
loss  ;  but  his  reply  was  simple  and  unanswerable  : — 

"  It  is  not  our  province  to  prevent  crime,  but  to  punish 
it.  We  cannot  punish  it  until  it  is  committed." 

I  remarked  that  the  secrecy  with  which  we  had  begun 
had  been  marred  by  the  newspapers  ;  not  only  all  our  facts 
but  all  our  plans  and  purposes  had  been  revealed ;  even  all 
the  suspected  persons  had  been  named  ;  these  would  doubt 
less  disguise  themselves  now,  or  go  into  hiding. 

"Let  them.  They  will  find  that  when  I  am  ready  for 
them  my  hand  will  descend  upon  them,  in  their  secret 
places,  as  unerringly  as  the  hand  of  fate.  As  to  the  news 
papers,  we  must  keep  in  with  them.  Fame,  reputation,  con 
stant  public  mention — these  are  the  detective's  bread  and 
butter.  He  must  publish  his  facts,  else  he  will  be  supposed 
to  have  none ;  he  must  publish  his  theory,  for  nothing  is  so 
strange  or  striking  as  a  detective's  theory,  or  brings  him  so 
much  wondering  respect;  we  must  publish  our  plans,  for 
these  the  journals  insist  upon  having,  and  we  could  not 
deny  them  without  offending.  We  must  constantly  show 


202 


the  public  what  we  are  doing,  or  they  will  believe  we  are 
doing  nothing.  It  is  much  pleasanter  to  have  a  newspaper 
say,  '  Inspector  Blunt's  ingenious  and  extraordinary  theory 
is  as  follows,'  than  to  have  it  say  some  harsh  thing,  or,  worse 
still,  some  sarcastic  one." 

"  I  see  the  force  of  what  you  say.  But  I  noticed  that 
in  one  part  of  your  remarks  in  the  papers  this  morning 
you  refused  to  reveal  your  opinion  upon  a  certain  minor 
point." 

"  Yes,  we  always  do  that ;  it  has  a  good  effect.  Be 
sides,  I  had  not  formed  any  opinion  on  that  point,  any 
way." 

I  deposited  a  considerable  sum  of  money  with  the  in 
spector,  to  meet  current  expenses,  and  sat  down  to  wait  for 
news.  We  were  expecting  the  telegrams  to  begin  to  arrive 
at  any  moment  now.  Meantime  I  reread  the  newspapers 
and  also  our  descriptive  circular,  and  observed  that  our 
$25,000  reward  seemed  to  be  offered  only  to  detectives.  I 
said  I  thought  it  ought  to  be  offered  to  anybody  who  would 
catch  the  elephant.  The  inspector  said  : — 

"  It  is  the  detectives  who  will  find  the  elephant,  hence 
the  reward  will  go  to  the  right  place.  If  other  people  found 
the  animal,  it  would  only  be  by  watching  the  detectives 
and  taking  advantage  of  clews  and  indications  stolen  from 
them,  and  that  would  entitle  the  detectives  to  the  reward, 
after  all.  The  proper  office  of  a  reward  is  to  stimulate 
the  men  who  deliver  up  their  time  and  their  trained  sa 
gacities  to  this  sort  of  work,  and  not  to  confer  benefits 
upon  chance  citizens  who  stumble  upon  a  capture  with 
out  having  earned  the  benefits  by  their  own  merits  and 
labors." 

This  was  reasonable  enough,  certainly.  Now  the  tele 
graphic  machine  in  the  corner  began  to  click,  and  the  fol 
lowing  despatch  was  the  result :— 


203 


FLOWER  STATION,  N.  Y.,  7.30  A.M. 

Have  got  a  clew.  Found  a  succession  of  deep  tracks  across  a  farm 
near  here.  Followed  them  two  miles  east  without  result  ;  think  ele 
phant  went  west.  Shall  now  shadow  him  in  that  direction. 

DARLEY,  Detective. 

"  Barley's  one  of  the  best  men  on  the  force,"  said  the 
inspector.     "  We  shall  hear  from  him  again  before  long." 
Telegram  No.  2  came  : — 

BARKER'S,  N.  J.,  7.40  A.M. 

Just  arrived.  Glass  factory  broken  open  here  during  night,  and 
eight  hundred  bottles  taken.  Only  water  in  large  quantity  near  here  is 
five  miles  distant.  Shall  strike  for  there.  Elephant  will  be  thirsty. 
Bottles  were  empty. 

BAKER,  Detective. 

"That  promises  well,  too,"  said  the  inspector.     "I  told 
you  the  creature's  appetites  would  not  be  bad  clews." 
Telegram  No.  3  : — 

TAYLORVILLE,  L.  I.,  8.15  A.M. 

A  haystack  near  here  disappeared  during  night.  Probably  eaten. 
Have  got  a  clew,  and  am  off. 

HUBBARD,  Detective. 

"  How  he  does  move  around  !"  said  the  inspector.  "  I 
knew  we  had  a  difficult  job  on  hand,  but  we  shall  catch  him 
yet." 

FLOWER  STATION,  N.  Y.,  9  A.M. 

Shadowed  the  tracks  three  miles  westward.  Large,  deep,  and  ragged. 
Have  just  met  a  farmer  who  says  they  are  not  elephant  tracks.  Says 
they  are  holes  where  he  dug  up  saplings  for  shade  -  trees  when  ground 
was  frozen  last  winter.  Give  me  orders  how  to  proceed. 

DARLEY,  Detective. 

"Aha!  a  confederate  of  the  thieves  !  The  thing  grows 
warm,"  said  the  inspector. 

He  dictated  the  following  telegram  to  Darley : — 


204 

Arrest  the  man  and  force  him  to  name  his  pals.  Continue  to  follow 
the  tracks— to  the  Pacific,  if  necessary. 

Chief  BLUNT. 

.Next  telegram: — 

CONEY  POINT,  PA.,  8.45  A.M. 

Gas  office  broken  open  here  during  night  and  three  months'  unpaid 
gas  bills  taken.  Have  got  a  clew  and  am  away. 

MURPHY,  Detective. 

"  Heavens !"  said  the  inspector ;  "  would  he  eat  gas 
bills  ?" 

"  Through  ignorance — yes ;  but  they  cannot  support  life. 
At  least,  unassisted." 

Now  came  this  exciting  telegram  :— 

IRONVILLE,  N.  Y.,  9.30  A.M. 

Just  arrived.  This  village  in  consternation.  Elephant  passed  through 
here  at  five  this  morning.  Some  say  he  went  east,  some  say  west,  some 
north,  some  south  —  but  all  say  they  did  not  wait  to  notice  particularly. 
He  killed  a  horse  ;  have  secured  a  piece  of  it  for  a  clew.  Killed  it  with 
his  trunk  ;  from  style  of  blow,  think  he  struck  it  left-handed.  From 
position  in  which  horse  lies,  think  elephant  travelled  northward  along 
line  of  Berkley  railway.  Has  four  and  a  half  hours'  start,  but  I  move 
on  his  track  at  once. 

HAWES,  Detective. 

I  uttered  exclamations  of  joy.  The  inspector  was  as 
self-contained  as  a  graven  image.  He  calmly  touched  his 
bell. 

"  Alaric,  send  Captain  Burns  here." 

Burns  appeared. 

"  How  many  men  are  ready  for  instant  orders  ?" 

"  Ninety-six,  sir." 

"  Send  them  north  at  once.  Let  them  concentrate  along 
the  line  of  the  Berkley  road  north  of  Ironville." 

"  Yes,  sir." 


205 

"Let  them  conduct  their  movements  with  the  utmost 
secrecy.  As  fast  as  others  are  at  liberty,  hold  them  for 
orders." 

"Yes,  sir." 

"  Go !" 

"  Yes,  sir." 

Presently  came  another  telegram : — 

SAGE  CORNERS,  N.Y.,  10.30. 

Just  arrived.  Elephant  passed  through  here  at  8.15.  All  escaped 
from  the  town  but  a  policeman.  Apparently  elephant  did  not  strike  at 
policeman,  but  at  the  lamp-post.  Got  both.  I  have  secured  a  portion 
of  the  policeman  as  clew. 

STUMM,  Detective. 

"  So  the  elephant  has  turned  westward,"  said  the  inspect 
or.  "  However,  he  will  not  escape,  for  my  men  are  scatter 
ed  all  over  that  region." 

The  next  telegram  said  : — 

GLOVER'S,  11.15. 

Just  arrived.  Village  deserted,  except  sick  and  aged.  Elephant 
passed  through  three-quarters  of  an  hour  ago.  The  anti-temperance 
mass-meeting  was  in  session  ;  he  put  his  trunk  in  at  a  window  and 
washed  it  out  with  water  from  cistern.  Some  swallowed  it — since  dead  ; 
several  drowned.  Detectives  Cross  and  O'Shaughnessy  were  passing 
through  town,  but  going  south — so  missed  elephant.  Whole  region  for 
many  miles  around  in  terror — people  flying  from  their  homes.  Wher 
ever  they  turn  they  meet  elephant,  and  many  are  killed. 

BRANT,  Detective. 

I  could  have  shed  tears,  this  havoc  so  distressed  me. 
But  the  inspector  only  said — 

"You  see  —  we  are  closing  in  on  him.  He  feels  our 
presence  ;  he  has  turned  eastward  again." 

Yet  further  troublous  news  was  in  store  for  us.  The 
telegraph  brought  this  : — 


206 


HOGANPORT,   I2.IQ. 

Just  arrived.  Elephant  passed  through  half  an  hour  ago,  creating 
wildest  fright  and  excitement.  Elephant  raged  around  streets  ;  two 
plumbers  going  by,  killed  one — other  escaped.  Regret  general. 

O 'FLAHERTY,  Detective. 

"  Now  he  is  right  in  the  midst  of  my  men,"  said  the  in 
spector.  "  Nothing  can  save  him." 

A  succession  of  telegrams  came  from  detectives  who 
were  scattered  through  New  Jersey  and  Pennsylvania,  and 
who  were  following  clews  consisting  of  ravaged  barns, 
factories,  and  Sunday-school  libraries,  with  high  hopes — 
hopes  amounting  to  certainties,  indeed.  The  inspector 
said — 

"  I  wish  I  could  communicate  with  them  and  order  them 
north,  but  that  is  impossible.  A  detective  only  visits  a 
telegraph  office  to  send  his  report ;  then  he  is  off  again,  and 
you  don't  know  where  to  put  your  hand  on  him." 

Now  came  this  despatch  : — 

BRIDGEPORT,  CT.,  12.15. 

Barnum  offers  rate  of  $4000  a  year  for  exclusive  privilege  of  using 
elephant  as  travelling  advertising  medium  from  now  till  detectives  find 
him.  Wants  to  paste  circus-posters  on  him.  Desires  immediate  an 
swer. 

BOGGS,  Detective. 

"  That  is  perfectly  absurd  !"  I  exclaimed. 

"Of  course  it  is,"  said  the  inspector.  "Evidently  Mr. 
Barnum,  who  thinks  he  is  so  sharp,  does  not  know  me — but 
I  know  him." 

Then  he  dictated  this  answer  to  the  despatch : — 

Mr.  Barnum's  offer  declined.     Make  it  $7000  or  nothing. 

Chief  BLUNT. 

"  There.     We  shall  not  have  to  wait  long  for  an  answer. 


207 


Mr.  Barnum  is  not  at  home ;  he  is  in  the  telegraph  office 
— it  is  his  way  when  he  has  business  on  hand.  Inside  of 
three—" 

DONE.— P.  T.  BARNUM. 

So  interrupted  the  clicking  telegraphic  instrument.  Before 
I  could  make  a  comment  upon  this  extraordinary  episode, 
the  following  despatch  carried  my  thoughts  into  another 
and  very  distressing  channel : — 

BOLIVIA,  N.  Y.,  12.50. 

Elephant  arrived  here  from  the  south  and  passed  through  toward  the 
forest  at  11.50,  dispersing  a  funeral  on  the  way,  and  diminishing  the 
mourners  by  two.  Citizens  fired  some  small  cannon-balls  into  him,  and 
then  fled.  Detective  Burke  and  I  arrived  ten  minutes  later,  from  the 
north,  but  mistook  some  excavations  for  footprints,  and  so  lost  a  good 
deal  of  time  ;  but  at  last  we  struck  the  right  trail  and  followed  it  to  the 
woods.  We  then  got  down  on  our  hands  and  knees  and  continued  to 
keep  a  sharp  eye  on  the  track,  and  so  shadowed  it  into  the  brush. 
Burke  was  in  advance.  Unfortunately  the  animal  had  stopped  to  rest ; 
therefore,  Burke  having  his  head  down,  intent  upon  the  track,  butted 
up  against  the  elephant's  hind  legs  before  he  was  aware  of  his  vicinity. 
Burke  instantly  rose  to  his  feet,  seized  the  tail,  and  exclaimed  joyfully, 
"  I  claim  the  re — "  but  got  no  further,  for  a  single  blow  of  the  huge 
trunk  laid  the  brave  fellow's  fragments  low  in  death.  I  fled  rearward, 
and  the  elephant  turned  and  shadowed  me  to  the  edge  of  the  wood, 
making  tremendous  speed,  and  I  should  inevitably  have  been  lost,  but 
that  the  remains  of  the  funeral  providentially  intervened  again  and  di 
verted  his  attention.  I  have  just  learned  that  nothing  of  that  funeral  is 
now  left ;  but  this  is  no  loss,  for  there  is  an  abundance  of  material  for 
another.  Meantime,  the  elephant  has  disappeared  again. 

MULROONEY,  Detective. 

We  heard  no  news  except  from  the  diligent  and  confident 
detectives  scattered  about  New  Jersey,  Pennsylvania,  Dela 
ware,  and  Virginia — who  were  all  following  fresh  and  en 
couraging  clews — until  shortly  after  2  P.M.,  when  this  tele 
gram  came  : — 


208 


BAXTER  CENTRE,  2.15. 

Elephant  been  here,  plastered  over  with  circus-bills,  and  broke  up  a 
revival,  striking  down  and  damaging  many  who  were  on  the  point  of 
entering  upon  a  better  life.  Citizens  penned  him  up  and  established  a 
guard.  When  Detective  Brown  and  I  arrived,  some  time  after,  we  en 
tered  enclosure  and  proceeded  to  identify  elephant  by  photograph  and 
description.  All  marks  tallied  exactly  except  one,  which  we  could  not 
see — the  boil-scar  under  armpit.  To  make  sure,  Brown  crept  under  to 
look,  and  was  immediately  brained  —  that  is,  head  crushed  and  de 
stroyed,  though  nothing  issued  from  debris.  All  fled;  so  did  elephant, 
striking  right  and  left  with  much  effect.  Has  escaped,  but  left  bold 
blood -track  from  cannon -wounds.  Rediscovery  certain.  He  broke 
southward,  through  a  dense  forest. 

BRENT,  Detective. 

That  was  the  last  telegram.  At  nightfall  a  fog  shut  down 
which  was  so  dense  that  objects  but  three  feet  away  could 
not  be  discerned.  This  lasted  all  night.  The  ferry-boats 
and  even  the  omnibuses  had  to  stop  running. 


Ill 

NEXT  morning  the  papers  were  as  full  of  detective  theo 
ries  as  before ;  they  had  all  our  tragic  facts  in  detail  also, 
and  a  great  many  more  which  they  had  received  from  their 
telegraphic  correspondents.  Column  after  column  was  oc 
cupied,  a  third  of  its  way  down,  with  glaring  head-lines, 
which  it  made  my  heart  sick  to  read.  Their  general  tone 
was  like  this  : — 

"  THE  WHITE  ELEPHANT  AT  LARGE  !  HE  MOVES  UPON  HIS  FATAL 
MARCH  !  WHOLE  VILLAGES  DESERTED  BY  THEIR  FRIGHT-STRICK 
EN  OCCUPANTS  !  PALE  TERROR  GOES  BEFORE  HIM,  DEATH  AND 
DEVASTATION  FOLLOW  AFTER  !  AFTER  THESE,  THE  DETECTIVES  ! 
BARNS  DESTROYED,  FACTORIES  GUTTED,  HARVESTS  DEVOURED,  PUB 
LIC  ASSEMBLAGES  DISPERSED,  ACCOMPANIED  BY  SCENES  OF  CARNAGE 
IMPOSSIBLE  TO  DESCRIBE  !  THEORIES  OF  THIRTY-FOUR  OF  THE  MOST 
DISTINGUISHED  DETECTIVES  ON  THE  FORCE !  THEORY  OF  CHIEF 
BLUNT  !" 

"  There  !"  said  Inspector  Blunt,  almost  betrayed  into  ex 
citement,  "  this  is  magnificent !  This  is  the  greatest  wind 
fall  that  any  detective  organization  ever  had.  The  fame  of 
it  will  travel  to  the  ends  of  the  earth,  and  endure  to  the  end 
of  time,  and  my  name  with  it." 

But  there  was  no  joy  for  me.  I  felt  as  if  I  had  commit 
ted  all  those  red  crimes,  and  that  the  elephant  was  only  my 
irresponsible  agent.  And  how  the  list  had  grown  !  In  one 
place  he  had  "  interfered  with  an  election  and  killed  five 
repeaters."  He  had  followed  this  act  with  the  destruction 
of  two  poor  fellows,  named  O'Donohue  and  McFlannigan, 


210 


who  had  "found  a  refuge  in  the  home  of  the  oppressed  of 
all  lands  only  the  day  before,  and  were  in  the  act  of  exer 
cising  for  the  first  time  the  noble  right  of  American  citizens 
at  the  polls,  when  stricken  down  by  the  relentless  hand  of 
the  Scourge  of  Siam."  In  another,  he  had  "found  a  crazy 
sensation-preacher  preparing  his  next  season's  heroic  at 
tacks  on  the  dance,  the  theatre,  and  other  things  which 
can't  strike  back,  and  had  stepped  on  him."  And  in  still 
another  place  he  had  "killed  a  lightning-rod  agent."  And 
so  the  list  went  on,  growing  redder  and  redder,  and  more 
and  more  heart-breaking.  Sixty  persons  had  been  killed, 
and  two  hundred  and  forty  wounded.  All  the  accounts 
bore  just  testimony  to  the  activity  and  devotion  of  the  de 
tectives,  and  all  closed  with  the  remark  that  "  three  hun 
dred  thousand  citizens  and  four  detectives  saw  the  dread 
creature,  and  two  of  the  latter  he  destroyed." 

I  dreaded  to  hear  the  telegraphic  instrument  begin  to 
click  again.  By-and-by  the  messages  began  to  pour  in,  but 
I  was  happily  disappointed  in  their  nature.  It  was  soon 
apparent  that  all  trace  of  the  elephant  was  lost.  The  fog 
had  enabled  him  to  search  out  a  good  hiding-place  unob 
served.  Telegrams  from  the  most  absurdly  distant  points 
reported  that  a  dim  vast  mass  had  been  glimpsed  there 
through  the  fog  at  such  and  such  an  hour,  and  was  "  undoubt 
edly  the  elephant."  This  dim  vast  mass  had  been  glimpsed 
in  New  Haven,  in  New  Jersey,  in  Pennsylvania,  in  interior 
New  York,  in  Brooklyn,  and  even  in  the  city  of  New  York 
itself !  But  in  all  cases  the  dim  vast  mass  had  vanished 
quickly  and  left  no  trace.  Every  detective  of  the  large  force 
scattered  over  this  huge  extent  of  country  sent  his  hourly 
report,  and  each  and  every  one  of  them  had  a  clew,  and 
was  shadowing  something,  and  was  hot  upon  the  heels  of  it 

But  the  day  passed  without  other  result. 

The  next  day  the  same. 


211 


The  next  just  the  same. 

The  newspaper  reports  began  to  grow  monotonous  with 
facts  that  amounted  to  nothing,  clews  which  led  to  nothing, 
and  theories  which  had  nearly  exhausted  the  elements 
which  surprise  and  delight  and  dazzle. 

By  advice  of  the  inspector  I  doubled  the  reward. 

Four  more  dull  days  followed.  Then  came  a  bitter  blow 
to  the  poor,  hard-working  detectives — the  journalists  de 
clined  to  print  their  theories,  and  coldly  said,  "  Give  us  a 
rest." 

Two  weeks  after  the  elephant's  disappearance  I  raised 
the  reward  to  $75,000  by  the  inspector's  advice.  It  was  a 
great  sum,  but  I  felt  that  I  would  rather  sacrifice  my  whole 
private  fortune  than  lose  my  credit  with  my  government. 
Now  that  the  detectives  were  in  adversity,  the  newspapers 
turned  upon  them,  and  began  to  fling  the  most  stinging  sar 
casms  at  them.  This  gave  the  minstrels  an  idea,  and  they 
dressed  themselves  as  detectives  and  hunted  the  elephant 
on  the  stage  in  the  most  extravagant  way.  The  caricaturists 
made  pictures  of  detectives  scanning  the  country  with  spy 
glasses,  while  the  elephant,  at  their  backs,  stole  apples  out  of 
their  pockets.  And  they  made  all  sorts  of  ridiculous  pictures 
of  the  detective  badge — you  have  seen  that  badge  printed 
in  gold  on  the  back  of  detective  novels,  no  doubt — it  is  a 
wide -staring  eye,  with  the  legend,  "WE  NEVER  SLEEP." 
When  detectives  called  for  a  drink,  the  would-be  facetious 
bar-keeper  resurrected  an  obsolete  form  of  expression  and 
said,  "  Will  you  have  an  eye-opener  ?"  All  the  air  was  thick 
with  sarcasms. 

But  there  was  one  man  who  moved  calm,  untouched,  un 
affected,  through  it  all.  It  was  that  heart  of  oak,  the  Chief 
Inspector.  His  brave  eye  never  drooped,  his  serene  con 
fidence  never  wavered.  He  always  said — 

"  Let  them  rail  on  ;  he  laughs  best  who  laughs  last." 


212 


My  admiration  for  the  man  grew  into  a  species  of  wor 
ship.  I  was  at  his  side  always.  His  office  had  become  an 
unpleasant  place  to  me,  and  now  became  daily  more  and 
more  so.  Yet  if  he  could  endure  it  I  meant  to  do  so  also 
— at  least,  as  long  as  I  could.  So  I  came  regularly,  and 
stayed — the  only  outsider  who  seemed  to  be  capable  of  it. 
Everybody  wondered  how  I  could ;  and  often  it  seemed  to 
me  that  I  must  desert,  but  at  such  times  I  looked  into  that 
calm  and  apparently  unconscious  face,  and  held  my  ground. 

About  three  weeks  after  the  elephant's  disappearance  I 
was  about  to  say,  one  morning,  that  I  should  have  to  strike 
my  colors  and  retire,  when  the  great  detective  arrested  the 
thought  by  proposing  one  more  superb  and  masterly  move. 

This  was  to  compromise  with  the  robbers.  The  fertility 
of  this  man's  invention  exceeded  anything  I  have  ever  seen, 
and  I  have  had  a  wide  intercourse  with  the  world's  finest 
minds.  He  said  he  was  confident  he  could  compromise  for 
$100,000  and  recover  the  elephant.  I  said  I  believed  I  could 
scrape  the  amount  together,  but  what  would  become  of  the 
poor  detectives  who  had  worked  so  faithfully  ?  He  said — 

"  In  compromises  they  always  get  half." 

This  removed  my  only  objection.  So  the  inspector  wrote 
two  notes,  in  this  form  :— 

DEAR  MADAM, — Your  husband  can  make  a  large  sum  of  money  (and 
be  entirely  protected  from  the  law)  by  making  an  immediate  appoint 
ment  with  me. 

Chief  BLUNT. 

He  sent  one  of  these  by  his  confidential  messenger  to 
the  "  reputed  wife  "  of  Brick  Duffy,  and  the  other  to  the  re 
puted  wife  of  Red  McFadden. 

Within  the  hour  these  offensive  answers  came  : — 

YE  OWLD  FOOL  :  brick  McDufFys  bin  ded  2  yere. 

BRIDGET  MAHONEY. 


213 


CHIEF  BAT, — Red  McFadden  is  hung  and  in  heving  18  month.  Any 
Ass  but  a  detective  knose  that. 

MARY  O'HOOLIGAN. 

"  I  had  long  suspected  these  facts,"  said  the  inspector ; 
"this  testimony  proves  the  unerring  accuracy  of  my  in 
stinct." 

The  moment  one  resource  failed  him  he  was  ready  with 
another.  He  immediately  wrote  an  advertisement  for  the 
morning  papers,  and  I  kept  a  copy  of  it : — 

A. — xwblv.  242  N.  Tjnd — fz328wmlg.    Ozpo, — ;  2  m  !  ogw.    Mum. 

He  said  that  if  the  thief  was  alive  this  would  bring  him 
to  the  usual  rendezvous.  He  further  explained  that  the 
usual  rendezvous  was  a  place  where  all  business  affairs  be 
tween  detectives  and  criminals  were  conducted.  This  meet 
ing  would  take  place  at  twelve  the  next  night. 

We  could  do  nothing  till  then,  and  I  lost  no  time  in  get 
ting  out  of  the  office,  and  was  grateful  indeed  for  the  privi 
lege. 

At  ii  the  next  night  I  brought  $100,000  in  bank-notes 
and  put  them  into  the  chief's  hands,  and  shortly  afterward 
he  took  his  leave,  with  the  brave  old  undimmed  confidence 
in  his  eye.  An  almost  intolerable  hour  dragged  to  a  close ; 
then  I  heard  his  welcome  tread,  and  rose  gasping  and  tot 
tered  to  meet  him.  How  his  fine  eyes  flamed  with  triumph  ! 
He  said — 

"  WeVe  compromised  !  The  jokers  will  sing  a  different 
tune  to-morrow  !  Follow  me  !" 

He  took  a  lighted  candle  and  strode  down  into  the  vast 
vaulted  basement  where  sixty  detectives  always  slept,  and 
where  a  score  were  now  playing  cards  to  while  the  time. 
I  followed  close  after  him.  He  walked  swiftly  down  to 
the  dim  remote  end  of  the  place,  and  just  as  I  succumbed 


214 

to  the  pangs  of  suffocation  and  was  swooning  away  he 
stumbled  and  fell  over  the  outlying  members  of  a  mighty 
object,  and  I  heard  him  exclaim  as  he  went  down — 

"  Our  noble  profession  is  vindicated.  Here  is  your  ele 
phant  !" 

I  was  carried  to  the  office  above  and  restored  with  car 
bolic  acid.  The  whole  detective  force  swarmed  in,  and 
such  another  season  of  triumphant  rejoicing  ensued  as  I 
had  never  witnessed  before.  The  reporters  were  called, 
baskets  of  champagne  were  opened,  toasts  were  drunk,  the 
handshakings  and  congratulations  were  continuous  and  en 
thusiastic.  Naturally  the  chief  was  the  hero  of  the  hour, 
and  his  happiness  was  so  complete  and  had  been  so  patiently 
and  worthily  and  bravely  won  that  it  made  me  happy  to  see 
it,  though  I  stood  there  a  homeless  beggar,  my  priceless 
charge  dead,  and  my  position  in  my  country's  service  lost 
to  me  through  what  would  always  seem  my  fatally  careless 
execution  of  a  great  trust.  Many  an  eloquent  eye  testified 
its  deep  admiration  for  the  chief,  and  many  a  detective's 
voice  murmured,  "  Look  at  him — just  the  king  of  the  pro 
fession  :  only  give  him  a  clew,  it's  all  he  wants,  and  there 
ain't  anything  hid  that  he  can't  find."  The  dividing  of  the 
$50,000  made  great  pleasure;  when  it  was  finished  the  chief 
made  a  little  speech  while  he  put  his  share  in  his  pocket,  in 
which  he  said,  "  Enjoy  it,  boys,  for  you've  earned  it ;  and 
more  than  that  you've  earned  for  the  detective  profession 
undying  fame." 

A  telegram  arrived,  which  read : — 

MONROE,  MICH.,  10  P.M. 

First  time  I've  struck  a  telegraph  office  in  over  three  weeks.  Have 
followed  those  footprints,  horseback,  through  the  woods,  a  thousand 
miles  to  here,  and  they  get  stronger  and  bigger  and  fresher  every  day. 
Don't  worry — inside  of  another  week  I'll  have  the  elephant.  This  is 
dead  sure. 

DARLEY,  Detective, 


215 

The  chief  ordered  three  cheers  for  "  Darley,  one  of  the 
finest  minds  on  the  force,"  and  then  commanded  that  he 
be  telegraphed  to  come  home  and  receive  his  share  of  the 
reward. 

So  ended  that  marvellous  episode  of  the  stolen  elephant. 
The  newspapers  were  pleasant  with  praises  once  more,  the 
next  day,  with  one  contemptible  exception.  This  sheet 
said,  "  Great  is  the  detective  !  He  may  be  a  little  slow 
in  finding  a  little  thing  like  a  mislaid  elephant — he  may 
hunt  him  all  day  and  sleep  with  his  rotting  carcass  all 
night  for  three  weeks,  but  he  will  find  him  at  last  —  if  he 
can  get  the  man  who  mislaid  him  to  show  him  the  place !" 

Poor  Hassan  was  lost  to  me  forever.  The  cannon-shots 
had  wounded  him  fatally,  he  had  crept  to  that  unfriendly 
place  in  the  fog,  and  there,  surrounded  by  his  enemies  and 
in  constant  danger  of  detection,  he  had  wasted  away  with 
hunger  and  suffering  till  death  gave  him  peace. 

The  compromise  cost  me  $100,000;  my  detective  ex 
penses  were  $42,000  more ;  I  never  applied  for  a  place 
again  under  my  government ;  I  am  a  ruined  man  and  a 
wanderer  in  the  earth — but  my  admiration  for  that  man, 
whom  I  believe  to  be  the  greatest  detective  the  world  has 
ever  produced,  remains  undimmed  to  this  day,  and  will  so 
remain  unto  the  end. 


SOME    RAMBLING    NOTES   OF  AN   IDLE 
EXCURSION 


ALL  the  journeyings  I  had  ever  done  had  been  purely  in 
the  way  of  business.  The  pleasant  May  weather  suggested 
a  novelty— namely,  a  trip  for  pure  recreation,  the  bread-and- 
butter  element  left  out.  The  Reverend  said  he  would  go, 
too  •  a  good  man,  one  of  the  best  of  men,  although  a  clergy 
man.  By  eleven  at  night  we  were  in  New  Haven  and  on 
board  the  New  York  boat.  We  bought  our  tickets,  and 
then  went  wandering  around,  here  and  there,  in  the  solid 
comfort  of  being  free  and  idle,  and  of  putting  distance 
between  ourselves  and  the  mails  and  telegraphs. 

After  a  while  I  went  to  my  state-room  and  undressed,  but 
the  night  was  too  enticing  for  bed.  We  were  moving  down 
the  bay  now,  and  it  was  pleasant  to  stand  at  the  window 
and  take  the  cool  night-breeze  and  watch  the  gliding  lights 
on  shore.  Presently,  two  elderly  men  sat  down  under  that 
window  and  began  a  conversation.  Their  talk  was  properly 
no  business  of  mine,  yet  I  was  feeling  friendly  toward  the 
world  and  willing  to  be  entertained.  I  soon  gathered  that 
they  were  brothers,  that  they  were  from  a  small  Connecticut 
village,  and  that  the  matter  in  hand  concerned  the  cemetery. 
Said  one — 


"  Now,  John,  we  talked  it  all  over  amongst  ourselves,  and 
this  is  what  we've  done.  You  see,  everybody  was  a-movin' 
from  the  old  buryin'  ground,  and  our  folks  was  'most  about 
left  to  theirselves,  as  you  may  say.  They  was  crowded,  too, 
as  you  know ;  lot  wa'n't  big  enough  in  the  first  place ;  and 
last  year,  when  Seth's  wife  died,  we  couldn't  hardly  tuck  her 
in.  She  sort  o'  overlaid  Deacon  Shorb's  lot,  and  he  soured 
on  her,  so  to  speak,  and  on  the  rest  of  us,  too.  So  we  talked 
it  over,  and  I  was  for  a  lay-out  in  the  new  simitery  on  the 
hill.  They  wa'n't  unwilling,  if  it  was  cheap.  Well,  the  two 
best  and  biggest  plots  was  No.  8  and  No.  9 — both  of  a 
size;  nice  comfortable  room  for  twenty-six — twenty -six 
full-growns,  that  is  j  but  you  reckon  in  children  and  other 
shorts,  and  strike  an  everage,  and  I  should  say  you  might 
lay  in  thirty,  or  may  be  thirty-two  or  three,  pretty  genteel  — 
no  crowdin'  to  signify." 

"  That's  a  plenty,  William.     Which  one  did  you  buy  ?" 

"  Well,  I'm  a-comin'  to  that,  John.  You  see,  No.  8  was 
thirteen  dollars,  No.  9  fourteen — " 

"  I  see.     So's't  you  took  No.  8." 

"You  wait.  I  took  No.  9.  And  I'll  tell  you  for  why. 
In  the  first  place,  Deacon  Shorb  wanted  it.  Well,  after  the 
way  he'd  gone  on  about  Seth's  wife  overlappin'  his  prem'ses, 
I'd  'a'  beat  him  out  of  that  No.  9  if  I'd  'a'  had  to  stand  two 
dollars  extra,  let  alone  one.  That's  the  way  I  felt  about  it. 
Says  I,  what's  a  dollar,  anyway  ?  Life's  on'y  a  pilgrimage, 
says  I ;  we  ain't  here  for  good,  and  we  can't  take  it  with  us, 
says  I.  So  I  just  dumped  it  down,  knowin'  the  Lord  don't 
suffer  a  good  deed  to  go  for  nothin',  and  cal'latin'  to  take 
it  out  o'  somebody  in  the  course  o'  trade.  Then  there  was 
another  reason,  John.  No.  9's  a  long  way  the  handiest 
lot  in  the  simitery,  and  the  likeliest  for  situation.  It  lays 
right  on  top  of  a  knoll  in  the  dead  centre  of  the  buryin' 
ground ;  and  you  can  see  Millport  from  there,  and  Tracy's, 


218 


and  Hopper  Mount,  and  a  raft  o'  farms,  and  so  on.  There 
ain't  no  better  outlook  from  a  buryin'  plot  in  the  State.  Si 
Higgins  says  so,  and  I  reckon  he  ought  to  know.  Well, 
and  that  ain't  all.  'Course  Shorb  had  to  take  No.  8 ;  wa'n't 
no  help  for  't.  Now,  No.  8  jines  on  to  No.  9,  but  it's  on 
the  slope  of  the  hill,  and  every  time  it  rains  it'll  soak  right 
down  on  to  the  Shorbs.  Si  Higgins  says 't  when  the  deacon's 
time  comes,  he  better  take  out  fire  and  marine  insurance 
both  on  his  remains." 

Here  there  was  the  sound  of  a  low,  placid,  duplicate 
chuckle  of  appreciation  and  satisfaction. 

"  Now,  John,  here's  a  little  rough  draught  of  the  ground, 
that  I've  made  on  a  piece  of  paper.  Up  here  in  the  left- 
hand  corner  we've  bunched  the  departed ;  took  them  from 
the  old  grave -yard  and  stowed  them  one  along  side  o' 
t'other,  on  a  first-come-first-served  plan,  no  partialities,  with 
Gran'ther  Jones  for  a  starter,  on'y  because  it  happened  so, 
and  windin'  up  indiscriminate  with  Seth's  twins.  A  little 
crowded  towards  the  end  of  the  lay-out,  may  be,  but  we 
reckoned  'twa'n't  best  to  scatter  the  twins.  Well,  next 
comes  the  livin'.  Here,  where  it's  marked  A,  we're  goin'  to 
put  Mariar  and  her  family,  when  they're  called ;  B,  that's  for 
Brother  Hosea  and  hisn  ;  C,  Calvin  and  tribe.  What's  left  is 
these  two  lots  here — just  the  gem  of  the  whole  patch  for  gen 
eral  style  and  outlook;  they're  for  me  and  my  folks,  and  you 
and  yourn.  Which  of  them  would  you  ruther  be  buried  in?" 

"  I  swan  you've  took  me  mighty  unexpected,  William ! 
It  sort  of  started  the  shivers.  Fact  is,  I  was  thinkin'  so 
busy  about  makin'  things  comfortable  for  the  others,  I 
hadn't  thought  about  being  buried  myself." 

"  Life's  on'y  a  fleetin'  show,  John,  as  the  sayin'  is. 
We've  all  got  to  go,  sooner  or  later.  To  go  with  a  clean 
record's  the  main  thing.  Fact  is,  it's  the  on'y  thing  worth 
strivin'  for,  John." 


"  Yes,  that's  so,  William,  that's  so ;  there  ain't  no  getting 
around  it.  Which  of  these  lots  would  you  recommend  ?" 

"  Well,  it  depends,  John.  Are  you  particular  about 
outlook  ?" 

"I  don't  say  I  am,  William,  I  don't  say  I  ain't.  Reely, 
I  don't  know.  But  mainly,  I  reckon,  I'd  set  store  by  a 
south  exposure." 

"  That's  easy  fixed,  John.  They're  both  south  exposure. 
They  take  the  sun,  and  the  Shorbs  get  the  shade." 

"How  about  sile,  William?" 

"  D's  a  sandy  sile,  E's  mostly  loom." 

"  You  may  gimme  E,  then,  William ;  a  sandy  sile  caves 
in,  more  or  less,  and  costs  for  repairs." 

"All  right,  set  your  name  down  here,  John,  under  E. 
Now,  if  you  don't  mind  payin'  me  your  share  of  the  four 
teen  dollars,  John,  while  we're  on  the  business,  everything's 
fixed." 

After  some  higgling  and  sharp  bargaining  the  money 
was  paid,  and  John  bade  his  brother  good-night  and  took 
his  leave.  There  was  silence  for  some  moments ;  then  a 
soft  chuckle  welled  up  from  the  lonely  William,  and  he 
muttered :  "  I  declare  for  't,  if  I  haven't  made  a  mistake  ! 
It's  D  that's  mostly  loom,  not  E.  And  John's  booked  for  a 
sandy  sile,  after  all." 

There  was  another  soft  chuckle,  and  William  departed  to 
his  rest,  also. 

The  next  day,  in  New  York,  was  a  hot  one.  Still  we 
managed  to  get  more  or  less  entertainment  out  of  it. 
Toward  the  middle  of  the  afternoon  we  arrived  on  board 
the  stanch  steamship  Bermuda,  with  bag  and  baggage,  and 
hunted  for  a  shady  place.  It  was  blazing  summer  weather, 
until  we  were  half-way  down  the  harbor.  Then  I  buttoned 
my  coat  closely;  half  an  hour  later  I  put  on  a  spring  over 
coat  and  buttoned  that.  As  we  passed  the  light-ship  I 


22O 


added  an  ulster  and  tied  a  handkerchief  around  the  collar 
to  hold  it  snug  to  my  neck.  So  rapidly  had  the  summer 
gone  and  winter  come  again  ! 

By  nightfall  we  were  far  out  at  sea,  with  no  land  in  sight. 
No  telegrams  could  come  here,  no  letters,  no  news.  This 
was  an  uplifting  thought.  It  was  still  more  uplifting  to  re 
flect  that  the  millions  of  harassed  people  on  shore  behind 
us  were  suffering  just  as  usual. 

The  next  day  brought  us  into  the  midst  of  the  Atlantic 
solitudes  —  out  of  smoke-colored  soundings  into  fathomless 
deep  blue ;  no  ships  visible  anywhere  over  the  wide  ocean ; 
no  company  but  Mother  Gary's  chickens  wheeling,  darting, 
skimming  the  waves  in  the  sun.  There  were  some  sea 
faring  men  among  the  passengers,  and  conversation  drifted 
into  matters  concerning  ships  and  sailors.  One  said  that 
"  true  as  the  needle  to  the  pole "  was  a  bad  figure,  since 
the  needle  seldom  pointed  to  the  pole.  He  said  a  ship's 
compass  was  not  faithful  to  any  particular  point,  but  was 
the  most  fickle  and  treacherous  of  the  servants  of  man. 
It  was  forever  changing.  It  changed  every  day  in  the 
year ;  consequently  the  amount  of  the  daily  variation  had  to 
be  ciphered  out  and  allowance  made  for  it,  else  the  mariner 
would  go  utterly  astray.  Another  said  there  was  a  vast 
fortune  waiting  for  the  genius  who  should  invent  a  compass 
that  would  not  be  affected  by  the  local  influences  of  an  iron 
ship.  He  said  there  was  only  one  creature  more  fickle 
than  a  wooden  ship's  compass,  and  that  was  the  compass  of 
an  iron  ship.  Then  came  reference  to  the  well-known  fact 
that  an  experienced  mariner  can  look  at  the  compass  of 
a  new  iron  vessel,  thousands  of  miles  from  her  birthplace, 
and  tell  which  way  her  head  was  pointing  when  she  was 
in  process  of  building. 

Now  an  ancient  whale-ship  master  fell  to  talking  about  the 
sort  of  crews  they  used  to  have  in  his  early  days.  Said  he — 


221 


"  Sometimes  we'd  have  a  batch  of  college  students. 
Queer  lot.  Ignorant?  Why,  they  didn't  know  the  cat 
heads  from  the  main  brace.  But  if  you  took  them  for  fools 
you'd  get  bit,  sure.  They'd  learn  more  in  a  month  than 
another  man  would  in  a  year.  We  had  one,  once,  in  the 
Mary  Ann,  that  came  aboard  with  gold  spectacles  on. 
And  besides,  he  was  rigged  out  from  main  truck  to  keelson 
in  the  nobbiest  clothes  that  ever  saw  a  fo'castle.  He  had 
a  chest  full,  too:  cloaks,  and  broadcloth  coats,  and  velvet 
vests :  everything  swell,  you  know ;  and  didn't  the  salt  wa 
ter  fix  them  out  for  him  ?  I  guess  not !  Well,  going  to 
sea,  the  mate  told  him  to  go  aloft  and  help  shake  out  the 
fore-to'gallants'l.  Up  he  shins  to  the  foretop,  with  his  spec 
tacles  on,  and  in  a  minute  down  he  comes  again,  looking 
insulted.  Says  the  mate,  'What  did  you  come  down  for?' 
Says  the  chap,  '  PYaps  you  didn't  notice  that  there  ain't 
any  ladders  above  there.'  You  see  we  hadn't  any  shrouds 
above  the  foretop.  The  men  bursted  out  in  a  laugh  such 
as  I  guess  you  never  heard  the  like  of.  Next  night,  which 
was  dark  and  rainy,  the  mate  ordered  this  chap  to  go  aloft 
about  something,  and  I'm  dummed  if  he  didn't  start  up  with 
an  umbrella  and  a  lantern!  But  no  matter;  he  made  a 
mighty  good  sailor  before  the  voyage  was  done,  and  we  had 
to  bunt  up  something  else  to  laugh  at.  Years  afterwards, 
when  I  had  forgot  all  about  him,  I  comes  into  Boston,  mate 
of  a  ship,  and  was  loafing  around  town  with  the  second  mate, 
and  it  so  happened  that  we  stepped  into  the  Revere  House, 
thinking  maybe  we  would  chance  the  salt-horse  in  that  big 
dining-room  for  a  flyer,  as  the  boys  say.  Some  fellows  were 
talking  just  at  our  elbow,  and  one  says,  *  Vender's  the  new 
governor  of  Massachusetts  — at  that  table  over  there,  with 
the  ladies.'  We  took  a  good  look,  my  mate  and  I,  for  we 
hadn't  either  of  us  ever  seen  a  governor  before.  I  looked 
and  looked  at  that  face,  and  then  all  of  a  sudden  it  popped 

ISTB 


222 


on  me  !  But  I  didn't  give  any  sign.  Says  I,  *  Mate,  I've  a 
notion  to  go  over  and  shake  hands  with  him.'  Says  he,  '  I 
think  I  see  you  doing  it,  Tom.'  Says  I,  '  Mate,  I'm  a-going 
to  do  it.'  Says  he,  '  Oh,  yes,  I  guess  so !  May  be  you 
don't  want  to  bet  you  will,  Tom  ?'  Says  I,  '  I  don't  mind 
going  a  V  on  it,  mate.'  Says  he,  'Put  it  up.'  'Up  she 
goes,'  says  I,  planking  the  cash.  This  surprised  him.  But 
he  covered  it,  and  says,  pretty  sarcastic,  '  Hadn't  you  bet 
ter  take  your  grub  with  the  governor  and  the  ladies,  Tom  ?' 
Says  I,  'Upon  second  thoughts,  I  will.'  Says  he,  'Well, 
Tom,  you  are  a  dum  fool.'  Says  I,  'Maybe  I  am,  maybe 
I  ain't ;  but  the  main  question  is,  do  you  want  to  risk  two 
and  a  half  that  I  won't  do  it?'  'Make  it  a  V,'  says  he. 
'  Done,'  says  I.  I  started,  him  a-giggling  and  slapping  his 
hand  on  his  thigh,  he  felt  so  good.  I  went  over  there 
and  leaned  my  knuckles  on  the  table  a  minute  and  looked 
the  governor  in  the  face,  and  says  I,  '  Mr.  Gardner,  don't 
you  know  me  ?'  He  stared,  and  I  stared,  and  he  stared. 
Then  all  of  a  sudden  he  sings  out,  '  Tom  Bowling,  by  the 
holy  poker!  Ladies,  it's  old  Tom  Bowling,  that  you've 
heard  me  talk  about — shipmate  of  mine  in  the  Mary  Ann? 
He  rose  up  and  shook  hands  with  me  ever  so  hearty — I 
sort  of  glanced  around  and  took  a  realizing  sense  of  my 
mate's  saucer  eyes  —  and  then  says  the  governor,  'Plant 
yourself,  Tom,  plant  yourself ;  you  can't  cat  your  anchor 
again  till  you've  had  a  feed  with  me  and  the  ladies !'  I 
planted  myself  alongside  the  governor,  and  canted  my  eye 
around  towards  my  mate.  Well,  sir,  his  dead-lights  were 
bugged  out  like  tompions ;  and  his  mouth  stood  that  wide 
open  that  you  could  have  laid  a  ham  in  it  without  him  no 
ticing  it." 

There  was  great  applause  at  the  conclusion  of  the  old 
captain's  story;  then,  after  a  moment's  silence,  a  grave, 
pale  young  man  said — 


223 

"  Had  you  ever  met  the  governor  before  ?" 
The  old  captain  looked  steadily  at  this  inquirer  awhile, 
and  then  got  up  and  walked  aft  without  making  any  reply. 
One  passenger  after  another  stole  a  furtive  glance  at  the  in 
quirer,  but  failed  to  make  him  out,  and  so  gave  him  up.  It 
took  some  little  work  to  get  the  talk-machinery  to  running 
smoothly  again  after  this  derangement ;  but  at  length  a 
conversation  sprang  up  about  that  important  and  jealously 
guarded  instrument,  a  ship's  time-keeper,  its  exceeding  deli 
cate  accuracy,  and  the  wreck  and  destruction  that  have 
sometimes  resulted  from  its  varying  a  few  seemingly  trifling 
moments  from  the  true  time ;  then,  in  due  course,  my  com 
rade,  the  Reverend,  got  off  on  a  yarn,  with  a  fair  wind  and 
everything  drawing.  It  was  a  true  story,  too  —  about  Cap 
tain  Rounceville's  shipwreck — true  in  every  detail.  It  was 
to  this  effect : — 

Captain  Rounceville's  vessel  was  lost  in  mid  -  Atlantic, 
and  likewise  his  wife  and  his  two  little  children.  Captain 
Rounceville  and  seven  seamen  escaped  with  life,  but  with 
little  else.  A  small,  rudely  constructed  raft  was  to  be  their 
home  for  eight  days.  They  had  neither  provisions  nor 
water.  They  had  scarcely  any  clothing  ;  no  one  had  a  coat 
but  the  captain.  This  coat  was  changing  hands  all  the 
time,  for  the  weather  was  very  cold.  Whenever  a  man  be 
came  exhausted  with  the  cold,  they  put  the  coat  on  him 
and  laid  him  down  between  two  shipmates  until  the  garment 
and  their  bodies  had  warmed  life  into  him  again.  Among 
the  sailors  was  a  Portuguese  who  knew  no  English.  He 
seemed  to  have  no  thought  of  his  own  calamity,  but  was 
concerned  only  about  the  captain's  bitter  loss  of  wife  and 
children.  By  day,  he  would  look  his  dumb  compassion  in 
the  captain's  face ;  and  by  night,  in  the  darkness  and  the 
driving  spray  and  rain,  he  would  seek  out  the  captain  and 


224 

try  to  comfort  him  with  caressing  pats  on  the  shoulder. 
One  day,  when  hunger  and  thirst  were  making  their  sure  in 
roads  upon  the  men's  strength  and  spirits,  a  floating  barrel 
was  seen  at  a  distance.  It  seemed  a  great  find,  for  doubt 
less  it  contained  food  of  some  sort.  A  brave  fellow  swam 
to  it,  and  after  long  and  exhausting  effort  got  it  to  the  raft. 
It  was  eagerly  opened.  It  was  a  barrel  of  magnesia !  On 
the  fifth  day  an  onion  was  spied.  A  sailor  swam  off  and 
got  it.  Although  perishing  with  hunger,  he  brought  it  in 
its  integrity  and  put  it  into  the  captain's  hand.  The  his 
tory  of  the  sea  teaches  that  among  starving,  shipwrecked 
men  selfishness  is  rare,  and  a  wonder-compelling  magna 
nimity  the  rule.  The  onion  was  equally  divided  into  eight 
parts,  and  eaten  with  deep  thanksgivings.  On  the  eighth 
day  a  distant  ship  was  sighted.  Attempts  were  made  to 
hoist  an  oar,  with  Captain  Rounceville's  coat  on  it  for  a 
signal.  There  were  many  failures,  for  the  men  were  but 
skeletons  now,  and  strengthless.  At  last  success  was 
achieved,  but  the  signal  brought  no  help.  The  ship  faded 
out  of  sight  and  left  despair  behind  her.  By-and-by  another 
ship  appeared,  and  passed  so  near  that  the  castaways,  every 
eye  eloquent  with  gratitude,  made  ready  to  welcome  the 
boat  that  would  be  sent  to  save  them.  But  this  ship  also 
drove  on,  and  left  these  men  staring  their  unutterable  sur 
prise  and  dismay  into  each  other's  ashen  faces.  Late  in 
the  day,  still  another  ship  came  up  out  of  the  distance,  but 
the  men  noted  with  a  pang  that  her  course  was  one  which 
would  not  bring  her  nearer.  Their  remnant  of  life  was 
nearly  spent ;  their  lips  and  tongues  were  swollen,  parched, 
cracked  with  eight  days'  thirst ;  their  bodies  starved ;  and 
here  was  their  last  chance  gliding  relentlessly  from  them ; 
they  would  not  be  alive  when  the  next  sun  rose.  For  a  day 
or  two  past  the  men  had  lost  their  voices,  but  now  Captain 
Rounceville  whispered,  "Let  us  pray,"  The  Portuguese 


225 

patted  him  on  the  shoulder  in  sign  of  deep  approval.  All 
knelt  at  the  base  of  the  oar  that  was  waving  the  signal-coat 
aloft,  and  bowed  their  heads.  The  sea  was  tossing ;  the 
sun  rested,  a  red,  rayless  disk,  on  the  sea-line  in  the  west. 
When  the  men  presently  raised  their  heads  they  would  have 
roared  a  hallelujah  if  they  had  had  a  voice  :  the  ship's  sails 
lay  wrinkled  and  flapping  against  her  masts — she  was  going 
about !  Here  was  rescue  at  last,  and  in  the  very  last  in 
stant  of  time  that  was  left  for  it.  No,  not  rescue  yet — 
only  the  imminent  prospect  of  it.  The  red  disk  sank  un 
der  the  sea,  and  darkness  blotted  out  the  ship.  By-and-by 
came  a  pleasant  sound  —  oars  moving  in  a  boat's  rowlocks. 
Nearer  it  came,  and  nearer  —  within  thirty  steps,  but  noth 
ing  visible.  Then  a  deep  voice :  "  Hol-/<?  /"  The  casta 
ways  could  not  answer ;  their  swollen  tongues  refused 
voice.  The  boat  skirted  round  and  round  the  raft,  started 
away— the  agony  of  it ! — returned,  rested  the  oars,  close  at 
hand,  listening,  no  doubt.  The  deep  voice  again  :  "  Hoi-/?/ 
Where  are  ye,  shipmates  ?"  Captain  Rounceville  whispered 
to  his' men,  saying:  "Whisper your  best,  boys!  now — all  at 
once !"  So  they  sent  out  an  eightfold  whisper  in  hoarse 
concert :  "  Here  !"  There  was  life  in  it  if  it  succeeded  ; 
death  if  it  failed.  After  that  supreme  moment  Captain 
Rounceville  was  conscious  of  nothing  until  he  came  to  him 
self  on  board  the  saving  ship.  Said  the  Reverend,  con 
cluding — 

"  There  was  one  little  moment  of  time  in  which  that  raft 
could  be  visible  from  that  ship,  and  only  one.  If  that  one 
little  fleeting  moment  had  passed  unfruitful,  those  men's 
doom  was  sealed.  As  close  as  that  does  God  shave  events 
foreordained  from  the  beginning  of  the  world.  When  the 
sun  reached  the  water's  edge  that  day,  the  captain  of  that 
ship  was  sitting  on  deck  reading  his  prayer-book.  The 
book  fell;  he  stooped  to  pick  it  up,  and  happened  to 


226 


glance  at  the  sun.  In  that  instant  that  far-off  raft  ap 
peared  for  a  second  against  the  red  disk,  its  needle -like 
oar  and  diminutive  signal  cut  sharp  and  black  against  the 
bright  surface,  and  in  the  next  instant  was  thrust  away 
into  the  dusk  again.  But  that  ship,  that  captain,  and  that 
^  pregnant  instant  had  had  their  work  appointed  for  them  in 
the  dawn  of  time  and  could  not  fail  of  the  performance. 
The  chronometer  of  God  never  errs  !" 

There  was  deep,  thoughtful  silence  for  some  moments. 
Then  the  grave,  pale  young  man  said — 

"What  is  the  chronometer  of  God?" 


II 

AT  dinner,  six  o'clock,  the  same  people  assembled  whom 
we  nad  talked  with  on  deck  and  seen  at  luncheon  and 
breakfast  this  second  day  out,  and  at  dinner  the  evening 
before.  That  is  to  say,  three  journeying  ship  -  masters,  a 
Boston  merchant,  and  a  returning  Bermudian  who  had  been 
absent  from  his  Bermuda  thirteen  years ;  these  sat  on  the 
starboard  side.  On  the  port  side  sat  the  Reverend  in  the 
seat  of  honor ,  the  pale  young  man  next  to  him ;  I  next ; 
next  to  me  an  aged  Bermudian,  returning  to  his  sunny 
islands  after  an  absence  of  twenty-seven  years.  Of  course 
our  captain  was  at  the  head  of  the  table,  the  purser  at 
the  foot  of  it.  A  small  company,  but  small  companies  are 
pleasantest. 

No  racks  upon  the  table ;  the  sky  cloudless,  the  sun 
brilliant,  the  blue  sea  scarcely  ruffled :  then  what  had  be 
come  of  the  four  married  couples,  the  three  bachelors, 
and  the  active  and  obliging  doctor  from  the  rural  districts 
of  Pennsylvania  ?  —  for  all  these  were  on  deck  when  we 
sailed  down  New  York  harbor.  This  is  the  explanation.  I 
quote  from  my  note-book : — 

Thursday,  3.30  P.M.  Under  way,  passing  the  Battery.  The  large 
party,  of  four  married  couples,  three  bachelors,  and  a  cheery,  exhila 
rating  doctor  from  the  wilds  of  Pennsylvania,  are  evidently  travelling 
together.  All  but  the  doctor  grouped  in  camp-chairs  on  deck. 

Passing  principal  fort.  The  doctor  is  one  of  those  people  who  has  an 
infallible  preventive  of  sea-sickness  ;  is  flitting  from  friend  to  friend  ad 
ministering  it  and  saying,  "  Don't  you  be  afraid  ;  I  know  this  medicine  ; 


228 


absolutely  infallible ;  prepared  under  my  own  supervision."  Takes  a 
dose  himself,  intrepidly. 

4.15  P.M.  Two  of  those  ladies  have  struck  their  colors,  notwith 
standing  the  "infallible."  They  have  gone  below.  The  other  two 
begin  to  show  distress. 

5  P.M.  Exit  one  husband  and  one  bachelor.  These  still  had  their 
infallible  in  cargo  when  they  started,  but  arrived  at  the  companion- 
way  without  it. 

5.10.  Lady  No.  3,  two  bachelors,  and  one  married  man  have  gone 
below  with  their  own  opinion  of  the  infallible. 

5.20.  Passing  Quarantine  Hulk.  The  infallible  has  done  the  busi 
ness  for  all  the  party  except  the  Scotchman's  wife  and  the  author  of  that 
formidable  remedy. 

Nearing  the  Light-Ship.  Exit  the  Scotchman's  wife,  head  drooped 
on  stewardess's  shoulder. 

Entering  the  open  sea.     Exit  doctor  ! 

The  rout  seems  permanent ;  hence  the  smallness  of  the 
company  at  table  since  the  voyage  began.  Our  captain  is 
a  grave,  handsome  Hercules  of  thirty -five,  with  a  brown 
hand  of  such  majestic  size  that  one  cannot  eat  for  admir 
ing  it  and  wondering  if  a  single  kid  or  calf  could  furnish 
material  for  gloving  it. 

Conversation  not  general ;  drones  along  between  couples. 
One  catches  a  sentence  here  and  there.  Like  this,  from 
Bermudian  of  thirteen  years'  absence :  "  It  is  the  nature 
of  women  to  ask  trival,  irrelevant,  and  pursuing  questions 
— questions  that  pursue  you  from  a  beginning  in  nothing  to 
a  run-to-cover  in  nowhere."  Reply  of  Bermudian  of  twenty- 
seven  years'  absence  :  "  Yes  ;  and  to  think  they  have  logi 
cal,  analytical  minds  and  argumentative  ability.  You  see 
'em  begin  to  whet  up  whenever  they  smell  argument  in  the 
air."  Plainly  these  be  philosophers. 

Twice  since  we  left  port  our  engines  have  stopped  for  a 
couple  of  minutes  at  a  time.  Now  they  stop  again.  Says 
the  pale  young  man,  meditatively,  "There! — that  engineer 
is  sitting  down  to  rest  again," 


229 

Grave  stare  from  the  captain,  whose  mighty  jaws  cease 
to  work,  and  whose  harpooned  potato  stops  in  mid-air  on 
its  way  to  his  open,  paralyzed  mouth.  Presently  he  says 
in  measured  tones,  "  Is  it  your  idea  that  the  engineer  of 
this  ship  propels  her  by  a  crank  turned  by  his  own  hands  ?" 

The  pale  young  man  studies  over  this  a  moment,  then 
lifts  up  his  guileless  eyes,  and  says,  "  Don't  he  ?" 

Thus  gently  falls  the  death-blow  to  further  conversation, 
and  the  dinner  drags  to  its  close  in  a  reflective  silence,  dis 
turbed  by  no  sounds  but  the  murmurous  wash  of  the  sea 
and  the  subdued  clash  of  teeth. 

After  a  smoke  and  a  promenade  on  deck,  where  is  no 
motion  to  discompose  our  steps,  we  think  of  a  game  of 
whist.  We  ask  the  brisk  and  capable  stewardess  from 
Ireland  if  there  are  any  cards  in  the  ship. 

"  Bless  your  soul,  dear,  indeed  there  is.  Not  a  whole 
pack,  true  for  ye,  but  not  enough  missing  to  signify." 

However,  I  happened  by  accident  to  bethink  me  a  new 
pack  in  a  morocco  case,  in  my  trunk,  which  I  had  placed 
there  by  mistake,  thinking  it  to  be  a  flask  of  something. 
So  a  party  of  us  conquered  the  tedium  of  the  evening  with 
a  few  games  and  were  ready  for  bed  at  six  bells,  manner's 
time,  the  signal  for  putting  out  the  lights. 

There  was  much  chat  in  the  smoking-cabin  on  the  upper 
deck  after  luncheon  to-day,  mostly  whaler  yarns  from  those 
old  sea-captains.  Captain  Tom  Bowling  was  garrulous. 
He  had  that  garrulous  attention  to  minor  detail  which  is 
born  of  secluded  farm  life  or  life  at  sea  on  long  voyages, 
where  there  is  little  to  do  and  time  no  object.  He  would 
sail  along  till  he  was  right  in  the  most  exciting  part  of  a 
yarn,  and  then  say,  "  Well,  as  I  was  saying,  the  rudder  was 
fouled,  ship  driving  before  the  gale,  head-on,  straight  for 
the  iceberg,  all  hands  holding  their  breath,  turned  to  stone, 
top-hamper  giving  'way,  sails  blown  to  ribbons,  first  one 


23Q 

stick  going,  then  another,  boom  !  smash !  crash !  duck  your 
head  and  stand  from  under !  when  up  comes  Johnny 
Rogers,  capstan  bar  in  hand,  eyes  a-blazing,  hair  a-flying 
.  .  .  no,  'twa'n't  Johnny  Rogers  .  .  .  lemme  see  .  .  .  seems 
to  me  Johnny  Rogers  wa'n't  along  that  voyage;  he  was 
along  one  voyage,  I  know  that  mighty  well,  but  somehow  it 
seems  to  me  that  he  signed  the  articles  for  this  voyage,  but 
— but — whether  he  come  along  or  not,  or  got  left,  or  some 
thing  happened — " 

And  so  on  and  so  on,  till  the  excitement  all  cooled  down 
and  nobody  cared  whether  the  ship  struck  the  iceberg  or  not. 

In  the  course  of  his  talk  he  rambled  into  a  criticism 
upon  New  England  degrees  of  merit  in  ship-building.  Said 
he,  "  You  get  a  vessel  built  away  down  Maine-way ;  Bath, 
for  instance ;  what's  the  result  ?  First  thing  you  do,  you 
want  to  heave  her  down  for  repairs — thafs  the  result !  Well, 
sir,  she  hain't  been  hove  down  a  week  till  you  can  heave  a 
dog  through  her  seams.  You  send  that  vessel  to  sea,  and 
what's  the  result?  She  wets  her  oakum  the  first  trip! 
Leave  it  to  any  man  if  'tain't  so.  Well,  you  let  our  folks 
build  you  a  vessel — down  New  Bedford-way.  What's  the 
result  ?  Well,  sir,  you  might  take  that  ship  and  heave  her 
down,  and  keep  her  hove  down  six  months,  and  she'll  never 
shed  a  tear !" 

Everybody,  landsmen  and  all,  recognized  the  descriptive 
neatness  of  that  figure,  and  applauded,  which  greatly  pleased 
the  old  man.  A  moment  later,  the  meek  eyes  of  the  pale 
young  fellow  heretofore  mentioned  came  up  slowly,  rested 
upon  the  old  man's  face  a  moment,  and  the  meek  mouth 
began  to  open. 

"  Shet  your  head  !"  shouted  the  old  mariner. 

It  was  a  rather  startling  surprise  to  everybody,  but  it  was 
effective  in  the  matter  of  its  purpose.  So  the  conversation 
flowed  on  instead  of  perishing. 


231 

There  was  some  talk  about  the  perils  of  the  sea,  and  a 
landsman  delivered  himself  of  the  customary  nonsense  about 
the  poor  manner  wandering  in  far  oceans,  tempest-tossed, 
pursued  by  dangers,  every  storm-blast  and  thunder-bolt  in 
the  home  skies  moving  the  friends  by  snug  firesides  to  com 
passion  for  that  poor  mariner,  and  prayers  for  his  succor. 
Captain  Bowling  put  up  with  this  for  a  while,  and  then  burst 
out  with  a  new  view  of  the  matter. 

"  Come,  belay  there  !  I  have  read  this  kind  of  rot  all  my 
life  in  poetry  and  tales  and  such  like  rubbage.  Pity  for  the 
poor  mariner!  sympathy  for  the  poor  mariner!  All  right 
enough,  but  not  in  the  way  the  poetry  puts  it.  Pity  for 
the  mariner's  wife  !  all  right  again,  but  not  in  the  way  the 
poetry  puts  it.  Look-a-here  !  whose  life's  the  safest  in  the 
whole  world?  The  poor  mariner's.  You  look  at  the  statis 
tics,  you'll  see.  So  don't  you  fool  away  any  sympathy  on 
the  poor  mariner's  dangers  and  privations  and  sufferings. 
Leave  that  to  the  poetry  muffs.  Now  you  look  at  the  other 
side  a  minute.  Here  is  Captain  Brace,  forty  years  old, 
been  at  sea  thirty.  On  his  way  now  to  take  command  of 
his  ship  and  sail  south  from  Bermuda.  Next  week  he'll  be 
under  way  :  easy  times  ;  comfortable  quarters  ;  passengers, 
sociable  company ;  just  enough  to  do  to  keep  his  mind 
healthy  and  not  tire  him  ;  king  over  his  ship,  boss  of  every 
thing  and  everybody ;  thirty  years'  safety  to  learn  him 
that  his  profession  ain't  a  dangerous  one.  Now  you  look 
back  at  his  home.  His  wife's  a  feeble  woman  ;  she's  a 
stranger  in  New  York ;  shut  up  in  blazing  hot  or  freezing 
cold  lodgings,  according  to  the  season ;  don't  know  any 
body  hardly ;  no  company  but  her  lonesomeness  and  her 
thoughts ;  husband  gone  six  months  at  a  time.  She  has 
borne  eight  children ;  five  of  them  she  has  buried  without 
her  husband  ever  setting  eyes  on  them.  She  watched 
them  all  the  long  nights  till  they  died — he  comfortable  on 


the  sea ;  she  followed  them  to  the  grave,  she  heard  the 
clods  fall  that  broke  her  heart  —  he  comfortable  on  the  sea; 
she  mourned  at  home,  weeks  and  weeks,  missing  them  ev 
ery  day  and  every  hour — he  cheerful  at  sea,  knowing  noth' 
ing  about  it.  Now  look  at  it  a  minute  —  turn  it  over  in 
your  mind  and  size  it :  five  children  born,  she  among  stran 
gers,  and  him  not  by  to  hearten  her;  buried,  and  him  not 
by  to  comfort  her;  think  of  that !  Sympathy  for  the  poor 
manner's  perils  is  rot ;  give  it  to  his  wife's  hard  lines, 
where  it  belongs !  Poetry  makes  out  that  all  the  wife  wor 
ries  about  is  the  dangers  her  husband's  running.  She's 
got  substantialer  things  to  worry  over,  I  tell  you.  Poetry's 
always  pitying  the  poor  mariner  on  account  of  his  perils  at 
sea ;  better  a  blamed  sight  pity  him  for  the  nights  he  can't 
sleep  for  thinking  of  how  he  had  to  leave  his  wife  in  her 
very  birth  pains,  lonesome  and  friendless,  in  the  thick  of 
disease  and  trouble  and  death.  If  there's  one  thing  that 
can  make  me  madder  than  another,  it's  this  sappy,  damned 
maritime  poetry!" 

Captain  Brace  was  a  patient,  gentle,  seldom -speaking 
man,  with  a  pathetic  something  in  his  bronzed  face  that 
had  been  a  mystery  up  to  this  time,  but  stood  interpreted 
now,  since  we  had  heard  his  story.  He  had  voyaged  eigh 
teen  times  to  the  Mediterranean,  seven  times  to  India,  once 
to  the  arctic  pole  in  a  discovery-ship,  and  "between  times  " 
had  visited  all  the  remote  seas  and  ocean  corners  of  the 
globe.  But  he  said  that  twelve  years  ago,  on  account  of 
his  family,  he  "settled  down,"  and  ever  since  then  had 
ceased  to  roam.  And  what  do  you  suppose  was  this  simple- 
hearted,  life-long  wanderer's  idea  of  settling  down  and  ceas 
ing  to  roam  ?  Why,  the  making  of  two  five-month  voyages  a 
year  between  Surinam  and  Boston  for  sugar  and  molasses ! 

Among  other  talk,  to-day,  it  came  out  that  whale-ships 
carry  no  doctor.  The  captain  adds  the  doctorship  to  his 


233 

own  duties.  He  not  only  gives  medicines,  but  sets  broken 
limbs  after  notions  of  his  own,  or  saws  them  off  and  sears 
the  stump  when  amputation  seems  best.  The  captain  is 
provided  with  a  medicine-chest,  with  the  medicines  num 
bered  instead  of  named.  A  book  of  directions  goes  with 
this.  It  describes  diseases  and  symptoms,  and  says,  "Give 
a  teaspoonful  of  No.  9  once  an  hour,"  or  "  Give  ten  grains 
of  No.  12  every  half -hour,"  etc.  One  of  our  sea-captains 
came  across  a  skipper  in  the  North  Pacific  who  was  in  a 
state  of  great  surprise  and  perplexity.  Said  he — 

"There's  something  rotten  about  this  medicine-chest 
business.  One  of  my  men  was  sick  —  nothing  much  the 
matter.  I  looked  in  the  book :  it  said,  give  him  a  tea- 
spoonful  of  No.  15.  I  went  to  the  medicine- chest,  and  I 
see  I  was  out  of  No.  15.  I  judged  I'd  got  to  get  up  a  com 
bination  somehow  that  would  fill  the  bill ;  so  I  hove  into 
the  fellow  half  a  teaspoonful  of  No.  8  and  half  a  teaspoon 
ful  of  No.  7,  and  I'll  be  hanged  if  it  didn't  kill  him  in  fif 
teen  minutes !  There's  something  about  this  medicine- 
chest  system  that's  too  many  for  me !" 

There  was  a  good  deal  of  pleasant  gossip  about  old  Cap 
tain  "  Hurricane  "  Jones,  of  the  Pacific  Ocean — peace  to 
his  ashes  !  Two  or  three  of  us  present  had  known  him ;  I, 
particularly  well,  for  I  had  made  four  sea-voyages  with 
him.  He  was  a  very  remarkable  man.  He  was  born  in  a 
ship ;  he  picked  up  what  little  education  he  had  among  his 
shipmates ;  he  began  life  in  the  forecastle,  and  climbed 
grade  by  grade  to  the  captaincy.  More  than  fifty  years  of 
his  sixty-five  were  spent  at  sea.  He  had  sailed  all  oceans, 
seen  all  lands,  and  borrowed  a  tint  from  all  climates. 
When  a  man  has  been  fifty  years  at  sea  he  necessarily 
knows  nothing  of  men,  nothing  of  the  world  but  its  surface, 
nothing  of  the  world's  thought,  nothing  of  the  world's 
learning  but  its  ABC,  and  that  blurred  and  distorted  by 


the  unfocused  lenses  of  an  untrained  mind.  Such  a  man 
is  only  a  gray  and  bearded  child.  That  is  what  old  Hurri 
cane  Jones  was  —  simply  an  innocent,  lovable  old  infant. 
When  his  spirit  was  in  repose  he  was  as  sweet  and  gentle 
as  a  girl ;  when  his  wrath  was  up  he  was  a  hurricane  that 
made  his  nickname  seem  tamely  descriptive.  He  was  for 
midable  in  a  fight,  for  he  was  of  powerful  build  and  daunt 
less  courage.  He  was  frescoed  from  head  to  heel  with 
pictures  and  mottoes  tattooed  in  red  and  blue  India  ink. 
I  was  with  him  one  voyage  when  he  got  his  last  vacant 
space  tattooed  ;  this  vacant  space  was  around  his  left  ankle. 
During  three  days  he  stumped  about  the  ship  with  his  ankle 
bare  and  swollen,  and  this  legend  gleaming  red  and  angry 
out  from  a  clouding  of  India  ink  :  "Virtue  is  its  own  R'd." 
(There  was  a  lack  of  room.)  He  was  deeply  and  sincerely 
pious,  and  swore  like  a  fish-woman.  He  considered  swear 
ing  blameless,  because  sailors  would  not  understand  an 
order  unillumined  by  it.  He  was  a  profound  biblical 
scholar — that  is,  he  thought  he  was.  He  believed  every 
thing  in  the  Bible,  but  he  had  his  own  methods  of  arriv 
ing  at  his  beliefs.  He  was  of  the  "advanced"  school  of 
thinkers,  and  applied  natural  laws  to  the  interpretation  of 
all  miracles,  somewhat  on  the  plan  of  the  people  who  make 
the  six  days  of  creation  six  geological  epochs,  and  so  forth. 
Without  being  aware  of  it,  he  was  a  rather  severe  satire  on 
modern  scientific  religionists.  Such  a  man  as  I  have  been 
describing  is  rabidly  fond  of  disquisition  and  argument ; 
one  knows  that  without  being  told  it. 

One  trip  the  captain  had  a  clergyman  on  board,  but  did 
not  know  he  was  a  clergyman,  since  the  passenger  list  did 
not  betray  the  fact.  He  took  a  great  liking  to  this  Rev. 
Mr.  Peters,  and  talked  with  him  a  great  deal:  told  him 
yarns,  gave  him  toothsome  scraps  of  personal  history,  and 
wove  a  glittering  streak  of  profanity  through  his  garrulous 


235 

fabric  that  was  refreshing  to  a  spirit  weary  of  the  dull  neu 
tralities  of  undecorated  speech.  One  day  the  captain  said, 
"Peters,  do  you  ever  read  the  Bible?" 

"Well— yes." 

"  I  judge  it  ain't  often,  by  the  way  you  say  it.  Now,  you 
tackle  it  in  dead  earnest  once,  and  you'll  find  it  '11  pay. 
Don't  you  get  discouraged,  but  hang  right  on.  First,  you 
won't  understand  it;  but  by-and-by  things  will  begin  to 
clear  up,  and  then  you  wouldn't  lay  it  down  to  eat." 

"Yes,  I  have  heard  that  said." 

"And  it's  so,  too.  There  ain't  a  book  that  begins  with 
it.  It  lays  over  'm  all,  Peters.  There's  some  pretty  tough 
things  in  it, — there  ain't  any  getting  around  that, — but  you 
stick  to  them  and  think  them  out,  and  when  once  you  get 
on  the  inside  everything's  plain  as  day." 

"  The  miracles,  too,  captain  ?" 

"  Yes,  sir !  the  miracles,  too.  Every  one  of  them.  Now, 
there's  that  business  with  the  prophets  of  Baal ;  like  enough 
that  stumped  you  ?" 

"Well,  I  don't  know  but—" 

"  Own  up,  now ;  it  stumped  you.  Well,  I  don't  wonder. 
You  hadn't  had  any  experience  in  ravelling  such  things  out, 
and  naturally  it  was  too  many  for  you.  Would  you  like  to 
have  me  explain  that  thing  to  you,  and  show  you  how  to 
get  at  the  meat  of  these  matters?" 

"  Indeed,  I  would,  captain,  if  you  don't  mind." 

Then  the  captain  proceeded  as  follows  :  "  I'll  do  it  with 
pleasure.  First,  you  see,  I  read  and  read,  and  thought  and 
thought,  till  I  got  to  understand  what  sort  of  people  they 
were  in  the  old  Bible  times,  and  then  after  that  it  was  all 
clear  and  easy.  Now,  this  was  the  way  I  put  it  up,  con 
cerning  Isaac*  and  the  prophets  of  Baal.  There  was  some 

*This  is  the  captain's  own  mistake. 


236 

mighty  sharp  men  amongst  the  public  characters  of  that  old 
ancient  day,  and  Isaac  was  one  of  them.  Isaac  had  his 
failings, — plenty  of  them,  too ;  it  ain't  for  me  to  apologize 
for  Isaac ;  he  played  it  on  the  prophets  of  Baal,  and  like 
enough  he  was  justifiable,  considering  the  odds  that  was 
against  him.  No,  all  I  say  is,  'twa'n't  any  miracle,  and 
that  I'll  show  you  so's't  you  can  see  it  yourself. 

"Well,  times  had  been  getting  rougher  and  rougher 
for  prophets,  —  that  is,  prophets  of  Isaac's  denomination. 
There  was  four  hundred  and  fifty  prophets  of  Baal  in  the 
community,  and  only  one  Presbyterian ;  that  is,  if  Isaac 
was  a  Presbyterian,  which  I  reckon  he  was,  but  it  don't 
say.  Naturally,  the  prophets  of  Baal  took  all  the  trade. 
Isaac  was  pretty  low-spirited,  I  reckon,  but  he  was  a  good 
deal  of  a  man,  and  no  doubt  he  went  a-prophesying  around, 
letting  on  to  be  doing  a  land -office  business,  but  'twa'n't 
any  use  ;  he  couldn't  run  any  opposition  to  amount  to  any 
thing.  By-and-by  things  got  desperate  with  him ;  he  sets 
his  head  to  work  and  thinks  it  all  out,  and  then  what  does 
he  do  ?  Why,  he  begins  to  throw  out  hints  that  the  other 
parties  are  this  and  that  and  t'other, — nothing  very  definite, 
maybe,  but  just  kind  of  undermining  their  reputation  in 
a  quiet  way.  This  made  talk,  of  course,  and  finally  got 
to  the  king.  The  king  asked  Isaac  what  he  meant  by  his 
talk.  Says  Isaac,  '  Oh,  nothing  particular ;  only,  can  they 
pray  down  fire  from  heaven  on  an  altar  ?  It  ain't  much, 
maybe,  your  majesty,  only  can  they  do  it  ?  That's  the  idea.' 
So  the  king  was  a  good  deal  disturbed,  and  he  went  to 
the  prophets  of  Baal,  and  they  said,  pretty  airy,  that  if  he 
had  an  altar  ready,  they  were  ready ;  and  they  intimated  he 
better  get  it  insured,  too. 

"  So  next  morning  all  the  children  of  Israel  and  their 
parents  and  the  other  people  gathered  themselves  together. 
Well,  here  was  that  great  crowd  of  prophets  of  Baal  packed 


237 

together  on  one  side,  and  Isaac  walking  up  and  down  all 
alone  on  the  other,  putting  up  his  job.  When  time  was 
called,  Isaac  let  on  to  be  comfortable  and  indifferent ;  told 
the  other  team  to  take  the  first  innings.  So  they  went  at  it, 
the  whole  four  hundred  and  fifty,  praying  around  the  altar, 
very  hopeful,  and  doing  their  level  best.  They  prayed  an 
hour,  —  two  hours,  —  three  hours,  —  and  so  on,  plumb  till 
noon.  It  wa'n't  any  use ;  they  hadn't  took  a  trick.  Of 
course  they  felt  kind  of  ashamed  before  all  those  people, 
and  well  they  might.  Now,  what  would  a  magnanimous 
man  do  ?  Keep  still,  wouldn't  he  ?  Of  course.  What  did 
Isaac  do?  He  gravelled  the  prophets  of  Baal  every  way 
he  could  think  of.  Says  he,  '  You  don't  speak  up  loud 
enough;  your  god's  asleep,  like  enough,  or  maybe  he's 
taking  a  walk  ;  you  want  to  holler,  you  know,' — or  words  to 
that  effect ;  I  don't  recollect  the  exact  language.  Mind,  I 
don't  apologize  for  Isaac;  he  had  his  faults. 

"  Well,  the  prophets  of  Baal  prayed  along  the  best  they 
knew  how  all  the  afternoon,  and  never  raised  a  spark.  At 
last,  about  sundown,  they  were  all  tuckered  out,  arid  they 
owned  up  and  quit. 

"What  does  Isaac  do,  now?  He  steps  up  and  says  to 
some  friends  of  his,  there,  '  Pour  four  barrels  of  water  on 
the  altar !'  Everybody  was  astonished  ;  for  the  other  side 
had  prayed  at  it  dry,  you  know,  and  got  whitewashed. 
They  poured  it  on.  Says  he,  '  Heave  on  four  more  barrels.' 
Then  he  says,  '  Heave  on  four  more.'  Twelve  barrels,  you 
see,  altogether.  The  water  ran  all  over  the  altar,  and  all 
down  the  sides,  and  filled  up  a  trench  around  it  that  would 
hold  a  couple  of  hogsheads, — *  measures,'  it  says  ;  I  reckon 
it  means  about  a  hogshead.  Some  of  the  people  were 
going  to  put  on  their  things  and  go,  for  they  allowed  he 
was  crazy.  They  didn't  know  Isaac.  Isaac  knelt  down 
and  began  to  pray:  he  strung  along,  and  strung  along, 

x6xs 


about  the  heathen  in  distant  lands,  and  about  the  sister 
churches,  and  about  the  state  and  the  country  at  large,  and 
about  those  that's  in  authority  in.  the  government,  and  all 
the  usual  programme,  you  know,  till  everybody  had  got 
tired  and  gone  to  thinking  about  something  else,  and  then, 
all  of  a  sudden,  when  nobody  was  noticing,  he  outs  with  a 
match  and  rakes  it  on  the  under  side  of  his  leg,  and  pff ! 
up  the  whole  thing  blazes  like  a  house  afire !  Twelve 
barrels  of  water  ?  Petroleum,  sir,  PETROLEUM  !  that's  what 
it  was !" 

"  Petroleum,  captain  ?" 

"Yes,  sir;  the  country  was  full  of  it.  Isaac  knew  all 
about  that.  You  read  the  Bible.  Don't  you  worry  about 
the  tough  places.  They  ain't  tough  when  you  come  to 
think  them  out  and  throw  light  on  them.  There  ain't  a 
thing  in  the  Bible  but  what  is  true ;  all  you  want  is  to  go 
prayerfully  to  work  and  cipher  out  how  't  was  done." 

At  eight  o'clock  on  the  third  morning  out  from  New 
York,  land  was  sighted.  Away  across  the  sunny  waves  one 
saw  a  faint  dark  stripe  stretched  along  under  the  horizon, 
—  or  pretended  to  see  it,  for  the  credit  of  his  eyesight. 
Even  the  Reverend  said  he  saw  it,  a  thing  which  was  mani 
festly  not  so.  But  I  never  have  seen  any  one  who  was 
morally  strong  enough  to  confess  that  he  could  not  see  land 
when  others  claimed  that  they  could. 

By-and-by  the  Bermuda  Islands  were  easily  visible.  The 
principal  one  lay  upon  the  water  in  the  distance,  a  long, 
dull-colored  body,  scalloped  with  slight  hills  and  valleys. 
We  could  not  go  straight  at  it,  but  had  to  travel  all  the  way 
around  it,  sixteen  miles  from  shore,  because  it  is  fenced 
with  an  invisible  coral  reef.  At  last  we  sighted  buoys,  bob 
bing  here  and  there,  and  then  we  glided  into  a  narrow 
channel  among  them,  "  raised  the  reef,"  and  came  upon 
shoaling  blue  water  that  soon  further  shoaled  into  pale 


239 

green,  with  a  surface  scarcely  rippled.  Now  came  the  resur 
rection  hour:  the  berths  gave  up  their  dead.  Who  are 
these  pale  spectres  in  plug  hats  and  silken  flounces  that  file 
up  the  companion-way  in  melancholy  procession  and  step 
upon  the  deck  ?  These  are  they  which  took  the  infallible 
preventive  of  sea-sickness  in  New  York  harbor  and  then 
disappeared  and  were  forgotten.  Also  there  came  two  or 
three  faces  not  seen  before  until  this  moment.  One's  im 
pulse  is  to  ask,  "  Where  did  you  come  aboard  ?" 

We  followed  the  narrow  channel  a  long  time,  with  land 
on  both  sides, — low  hills  that  might  have  been  green  and 
grassy,  but  had  a  faded  look  instead.  However,  the  land 
locked  water  was  lovely,  at  any  rate,  with  its  glittering  belts 
of  blue  and  green  where  moderate  soundings  were,  and  its 
broad  splotches  of  rich  brown  where  the  rocks  lay  near 
the  surface.  Everybody  was  feeling  so  well  that  even  the 
grave,  pale  young  man  (who,  by  a  sort  of  kindly  common 
consent,  had  come  latterly  to  be  referred  to  as  "  the  Ass  ") 
received  frequent  and  friendly  notice, — which  was  right 
enough,  for  there  was  no  harm  in  him. 

At  last  we  steamed  between  two  island  points  whose 
rocky  jaws  allowed  only  just  enough  room  for  the  vessel's 
body,  and  now  before  us  loomed  Hamilton  on  her  clustered 
hill-sides  and  summits,  the  whitest  mass  of  terraced  archi 
tecture  that  exists  in  the  world,  perhaps. 

It  was  Sunday  afternoon,  and  on  the  pier  were  gathered 
one  or  two  hundred  Bermudians,  half  of  them  black,  half 
of  them  white,  and  all  of  them  nobbily  dressed,  as  the  poet 
says. 

Several  boats  came  off  to  the  ship,  bringing  citizens. 
One  of  these  citizens  was  a  faded,  diminutive  old  gentle 
man,  who  approached  our  most  ancient  passenger  with  a 
childlike  joy  in  his  twinkling  eyes,  halted  before  him,  folded 
his  arms,  and  said,  smiling  with  all  his  might  and  with  ail 


240 

the  simple  delight  that  was  in  him,  "You  don't  know  me, 
John  !  Come,  out  with  it,  now  ;  you  know  you  don't !" 

The  ancient  passenger  scanned  him  perplexedly,  scanned 
the  napless,  threadbare  costume  of  venerable  fashion  that 
had  done  Sunday  service  no  man  knows  how  many  years, 
contemplated  the  marvellous  stove-pipe  hat  of  still  more 
ancient  and  venerable  pattern,  with  its  poor  pathetic  old 
stiff  brim  canted  up  "  gallusly "  in  the  wrong  places,  and 
said,  with  a  hesitation  that  indicated  strong  internal  effort 
to  "  place  "  the  gentle  old  apparition,  "  Why  ...  let  me 
see  .  .  .  plague  on  it  ...  there's  something  about  you  that 
.  .  .  er  .  .  .  er  .  .  .  but  I've  been  gone  from  Bermuda  for 
twenty-seven  years,  and  .  .  .  hum,  hum  ...  I  don't  seem 
to  get  at  it,  somehow,  but  there's  something  about  you  that 
is  just  as  familiar  to  me  as — " 

"  Likely  it  might  be  his  hat,"  murmured  the  Ass,  with  in 
nocent,  sympathetic  interest. 


Ill 


So  the  Reverend  and  I  had  at  last  arrived  at  Hamilton, 
the  principal  town  in  the  Bermuda  Islands.  A  wonderfully 
white  town  ;  white  as  snow  itself.  White  as  marble  ;  white 
as  flour.  Yet  looking  like  none  of  these,  exactly.  Never 
mind,  we  said  ;  we  shall  hit  upon  a  figure  by-and-by  that 
will  describe  this  peculiar  white. 

It  was  a  town  that  was  compacted  together  upon  the  sides 
and  tops  of  a  cluster  of  small  hills.  Its  outlying  borders 
fringed  off  and  thinned  away  among  the  cedar  forests,  and 
there  was  no  woody  distance  of  curving  coast,  or  leafy  islet 
sleeping  upon  the  dimpled,  painted  sea,  but  was  flecked 
with  shining  white  points — half-  concealed  houses  peeping 
out  of  the  foliage.  The  architecture  of  the  town  was 
mainly  Spanish,  inherited  from  the  colonists  of  two  hun 
dred  and  fifty  years  ago.  Some  ragged  -  topped  cocoa- 
palms,  glimpsed  here  and  there,  gave  the  land  a  tropical 
aspect. 

There  was  an  ample  pier  of  heavy  masonry ;  upon  this, 
under  shelter,  were  some  thousands  of  barrels  containing 
that  product  which  has  carried  the  fame  of  Bermuda  to 
many  lands,  the  potato.  With  here  and  there  an  onion. 
That  last  sentence  is  facetious ;  for  they  grow  at  least  two 
onions  in  Bermuda  to  one  potato.  The  onion  is  the  pride 
and  joy  of  Bermuda.  It  is  her  jewel,  her  gem  of  gems.  In 
her  conversation,  her  pulpit,  her  literature,  it  is  her  most 
frequent  and  eloquent  figure.  In  Bermudian  metaphor  it 
stands  for  perfection— perfection  absolute. 


242 

The  Bermudian  weeping  over  the  departed  exhausts  praise 
when  he  says,  "  He  was  an  onion !"  The  Bermudian  ex- 
tolling  the  living  hero  bankrupts  applause  when  he  says, 
"  He  is  an  onion !"  The  Bermudian  setting  his  son  upon 
the  stage  of  life  to  dare  and  do  for  himself  climaxes  all 
counsel,  supplication,  admonition,  comprehends  all  ambi 
tion,  when  he  says,  "  Be  an  onion !" 

When  parallel  with  the  pier,  and  ten  or  fifteen  steps  out 
side  it,  we  anchored.  It  was  Sunday,  bright  and  sunny. 
The  groups  upon  the  pier — men,  youths,  and  boys — were 
whites  and  blacks  in  about  equal  proportion.  All  were 
well  and  neatly  dressed,  many  of  them  nattily,  a  few  of 
them  very  stylishly.  One  would  have  to  travel  far  before 
he  would  find  another  town  of  twelve  thousand  inhabitants 
that  could  represent  itself  so  respectably,  in  the  matter  of 
clothes,  on  a  freight-pier,  without  premeditation  or  effort. 
The  women  and  young  girls,  black  and  white,  who  occa 
sionally  passed  by,  were  nicely  clad,  and  many  were  ele 
gantly  and  fashionably  so.  The  men  did  not  affect  summer 
clothing  much,  but  the  girls  and  women  did,  and  their  white 
garments  were  good  to  look  at,  after  so  many  months  of  fa 
miliarity  with  sombre  colors. 

Around  one  isolated  potato  barrel  stood  four  young  gen 
tlemen,  two  black,  two  white,  becomingly  dressed,  each  with 
the  head  of  a  slender  cane  pressed  against  his  teeth,  and 
each  with  a  foot  propped  up  on  the  barrel.  Another  young 
gentleman  came  up,  looked  longingly  at  the  barrel,  but  saw 
no  rest  for  his  foot  there,  and  turned  pensively  away  to  seek 
another  barrel.  He  wandered  here  and  there,  but  without 
result.  Nobody  sat  upon  a  barrel,  as  is  the  custom  of  the 
idle  in  other  lands,  yet  all  the  isolated  barrels  were  humanly 
occupied.  Whosoever  had  a  foot  to  spare  put  it  on  a  bar 
rel,  if  all  the  places  on  it  were  not  already  taken.  The  hab 
its  of  all  peoples  are  determined  by  their  circumstances. 


243 

The  Bermudians  lean  upon  barrels  because  of  the  scarcity 
of  lamp-posts. 

Many  citizens  came  on  board  and  spoke  eagerly  to  the 
officers  —  inquiring  about  the  Turco-Russian  war  news,  I 
supposed.  However,  by  listening  judiciously  I  found  that 
this  was  not  so.  They  said,  "  What  is  the  price  of  onions  ?" 
or,  "  How's  onions  ?"  Naturally  enough  this  was  their  first 
interest ;  but  they  dropped  into  the  war  the  moment  it  was 
satisfied. 

We  went  ashore  and  found  a  novelty  of  a  pleasant  nat 
ure  :  there  were  no  hackmen,  hacks,  or  omnibuses  on  the 
pier  or  about  it  anywhere,  and  nobody  offered  his  services 
to  us,  or  molested  us  in  any  way.  I  said  it  was  like  being 
in  heaven.  The  Reverend  rebukingly  and  rather  pointedly 
advised  me  to  make  the  most  of  it,  then.  We  knew  of  a 
boarding-house,  and  what  we  needed  now  was  somebody 
to  pilot  us  to  it.  Presently  a  little  barefooted  colored  boy 
came  along,  whose  raggedness  was  conspicuously  un-Bermu- 
dian.  His  rear  was  so  marvellously  bepatched  with  colored 
squares  and  triangles  that  one  was  half  persuaded  he  had 
got  it  out  of  an  atlas.  When  the  sun  struck  him  right,  he 
was  as  good  to  follow  as  a  lightning-bug.  We  hired  him 
and  dropped  into  his  wake.  He  piloted  us  through  one 
picturesque  street  after  another,  and  in  due  course  deposit 
ed  us  where  we  belonged.  He  charged  nothing  for  his 
map,  and  but  a  trifle  for  his  services ;  so  the  Reverend 
doubled  it.  The  little  chap  received  the  money  with  a 
beaming  applause  in  his  eye  which  plainly  said,  "  This 
man's  an  onion  !" 

We  had  brought  no  letters  of  introduction  ;  our  names 
had  been  misspelt  in  the  passenger  list;  nobody  knew 
whether  we  were  honest  folk  or  otherwise.  So  we  were  ex 
pecting  to  have  a  good  private  time  in  case  there  was  noth 
ing  in  our  general  aspect  to  close  boarding-house  doors 


244 

against  us.  We  had  no  trouble.  Bermuda  has  had  but 
little  experience  of  rascals,  and  is  not  suspicious.  We  got 
large,  cool,  well-lighted  rooms  on  a  second  floor,  overlook 
ing  a  bloomy  display  of  flowers  and  flowering  shrubs, — 
calla  and  annunciation  lilies,  lantanas,  heliotrope,  jessa 
mine,  roses,  pinks,  double  geraniums,  oleanders,  pomegran 
ates,  blue  morning-glories  of  a  great  size,  and  many  plants 
that  were  unknown  to  me. 

We  took  a  long  afternoon  walk,  and  soon  found  out  that 
that  exceedingly  white  town  was  built  of  blocks  of  white 
coral.  Bermuda  is  a  coral  island,  with  a  six-inch  crust  of 
soil  on  top  of  it,  and  every  man  has  a  quarry  on  his  own 
premises.  Everywhere  you  go  you  see  square  recesses  cut 
into  the  hill-sides,  with  perpendicular  walls  unmarred  by 
crack  or  crevice,  and  perhaps  you  fancy  that  a  house  grew 
out  of  the  ground  there,  and  has  been  removed  in  a  single 
piece  from  the  mould.  If  you  do,  you  err.  But  the  mate 
rial  for  a  house  has  been  quarried  there.  They  cut  right 
down  through  the  coral,  to  any  depth  that  is  convenient — 
ten  to  twenty  feet  —  and  take  it  out  in  great  square  blocks. 
This  cutting  is  done  with  a  chisel  that  has  a  handle  twelve 
or  fifteen  feet  long,  and  is  used  as  one  uses  a  crowbar  when 
he  is  drilling  a  hole,  or  a  dasher  when  he  is  churning. 
Thus  soft  is  this  stone.  Then  with  a  common  handsaw 
they  saw  the  great  blocks  into  handsome,  huge  bricks  that 
are  two  feet  long,  a  foot  wide,  and  about  six  inches  thick. 
These  stand  loosely  piled  during  a  month  to  harden ;  then 
the  work  of  building  begins.  The  house  is  built  of  these 
blocks ;  it  is  roofed  with  broad  coral  slabs  an  inch  thick, 
whose  edges  lap  upon  each  other,  so  that  the  roof  looks  like 
a  succession  of  shallow  steps  or  terraces  ;  the  chimneys  are 
built  of  the  coral  blocks,  and  sawed  into  graceful  and  pict 
uresque  patterns ;  the  ground-floor  veranda  is  paved  with 
coral  blocks ;  also  the  walk  to  the  gate ;  the  fence  is  built 


245 

of  coral  blocks  —  built  in  massive  panels,  with  broad  cap 
stones  and  heavy  gate-posts,  and  the  whole  trimmed  into 
easy  lines  and  comely  shape  with  the  saw.  Then  they  put 
a  hard  coat  of  whitewash,  as  thick  as  your  thumb  nail,  on 
the  fence  and  all  over  the  house,  roof,  chimneys,  and  all ; 
the  sun  comes  out  and  shines  on  this  spectacle,  and  it  is 
time  for  you  to  shut  your  unaccustomed  eyes,  lest  they  be 
put  out.  It  is  the  whitest  white  you  can  conceive  of,  and 
the  blindingest.  A  Bermuda  house  does  not  look  like  mar 
ble  ;  it  is  a  much  intenser  white  than  that ;  and  besides, 
there  is  a  dainty,  indefinable  something  else  about  its  look 
that  is  not  marble-like.  We  put  in  a  great  deal  of  solid 
talk  and  reflection  over  this  matter  of  trying  to  find  a  figure 
that  would  describe  the  unique  white  of  a  Bermuda  house, 
and  we  contrived  to  hit  upon  it  at  last.  It  is  exactly  the 
white  of  the  icing  of  a  cake,  and  has  the  same  unemphasized 
and  scarcely  perceptible  polish.  The  white  of  marble  is 
modest  and  retiring  compared  with  it. 

After  the  house  is  cased  in  its  hard  scale  of  whitewash, 
not  a  crack,  or  sign  of  a  seam,  or  joining  of  the  blocks  is 
detectable,  from  base-stone  to  chimney  -  top ;  the  building 
looks  as  if  it  had  been  carved  from  a  single  block  of  stone, 
and  the  doors  and  windows  sawed  out  afterwards.  A  white- 
marble  house  has  a  cold,  tomb-like,  unsociable  look,  and 
takes  the  conversation  out  of  a  body  and  depresses  him. 
Not  so  with  a  Bermuda  house.  There  is  something  ex 
hilarating,  even  hilarious,  about  its  vivid  whiteness  when  the 
sun  plays  upon  it.  If  it  be  of  picturesque  shape  and  grace 
ful  contour  —  and  many  of  the  Bermudian  dwellings  are  —  it 
will  so  fascinate  you  that  you  will  keep  your  eyes  on  it  until 
they  ache.  One  of  those  clean-cut,  fanciful  chimneys  — too 
pure  and  white  for  this  world  —  with  one  side  glowing  in 
the  sun  and  the  other  touched  with  a  soft  shadow,  is  an 
object  that  will  charm  one's  gaze  by  the  hour.  I  knovy 


246 

of  no  other  country  that  has  chimneys  worthy  to  be  gazed 
at  and  gloated  over.  One  of  those  snowy  houses,  half 
concealed  and  half  glimpsed  through  green  foliage,  is  a 
pretty  thing  to  see ;  and  if  it  takes  one  by  surprise  and 
suddenly,  as  he  turns  a  sharp  corner  of  a  country  road,  it 
will  wring  an  exclamation  from  him,  sure. 

Wherever  you  go,  in  town  or  country,  you  find  those 
snowy  houses,  and  always  with  masses  of  bright -colored 
flowers  about  them,  but  with  no  vines  climbing  their  walls; 
vines  cannot  take  hold  of  the  smooth,  hard  whitewash. 
Wherever  you  go,  in  the  town  or  along  the  country  roads, 
among  little  potato  farms  and  patches  or  expensive  country- 
seats,  these  stainless  white  dwellings,  gleaming  out  from 
flowers  and  foliage,  meet  you  at  every  turn.  The  least 
little  bit  of  a  cottage  is  as  white  and  blemishless  as  the 
stateliest  mansion.  Nowhere  is  there  dirt  or  stench,  puddle 
or  hog-wallow,  neglect,  disorder,  or  lack  of  trimness  and 
neatness.  The  roads,  the  streets,  the  dwellings,  the  people, 
the  clothes, — this  neatness  extends  to  everything  that  falls 
under  the  eye.  It  is  the  tidiest  country  in  the  world.  And 
very  much  the  tidiest,  too. 

Considering  these  things,  the  question  came  up,  Where 
do  the  poor  live  ?  No  answer  was  arrived  at.  Therefore, 
we  agreed  to  leave  this  conundrum  for  future  statesmen  to 
wrangle  over. 

What  a  bright  and  startling  spectacle  one  of  those  blaz 
ing  white  country  palaces,  with  its  brown- tinted  window 
caps  and  ledges,  and  green  shutters,  and  its  wealth  of 
caressing  flowers  and  foliage,  would  be  in  black  London  ! 
And  what  a  gleaming  surprise  it  would  be  in  nearly  any 
American  city  one  could  mention,  too  ! 

Bermuda  roads  are  made  by  cutting  down  a  few  inches 
into  the  solid  white  coral — or  a  good  many  feet,  where  a 
hill  intrudes  itself — and  smoothing  off  the  surface  of  the 


247 

road-bed.  It  is  a  simple  and  easy  process.  The  grain  of 
the  coral  is  coarse  and  porous  ;  the  road-bed  has  the  look 
of  being  made  of  coarse  white  sugar.  Its  excessive  clean 
ness  and  whiteness  are  a  trouble  in  one  way :  the  sun  is 
reflected  into  your  eyes  with  such  energy  as  you  walk 
along  that  you  want  to  sneeze  all  the  time.  Old  Captain 
Tom  Bowling  found  another  difficulty.  He  joined  us  in 
our  walk,  but  kept  wandering  unrestfully  to  the  roadside. 
Finally  he  explained.  Said  he,  "  Well,  I  chew,  you  know, 
and  the  road's  so  plaguy  clean." 

We  walked  several  miles  that  afternoon  in  the  bewilder 
ing  glare  of  the  sun,  the  white  roads,  and  the  white  build 
ings.  Our  eyes  got  to  paining  us  a  good  deal.  By-and- 
by  a  soothing,  blessed  twilight  spread  its  cool  balm  around. 
We  looked  up  in  pleased  surprise  and  saw  that  it  proceeded 
from  an  intensely  black  negro  who  was  going  by.  We  an 
swered  his  military  salute  in  the  grateful  gloom  of  his  near 
presence,  and  then  passed  on  into  the  pitiless  white  glare 
again. 

The  colored  women  whom  we  met  usually  bowed  and 
spoke  \  so  did  the  children.  The  colored  men  commonly 
gave  the  military  salute.  They  borrow  this  fashion  from 
the  soldiers,  no  doubt ;  England  has  kept  a  garrison  here 
for  generations.  The  younger  men's  custom  of  carrying 
small  canes  is  also  borrowed  from  the  soldiers,  I  suppose, 
who  always  carry  a  cane,  in  Bermuda  as  everywhere  else 
in  Britain's  broad  dominions. 

The  country  roads  curve  and  wind  hither  and  thither 
in  the  delightfulest  way,  unfolding  pretty  surprises  at  every 
turn :  billowy  masses  of  oleander  that  seem  to  float  out 
from  behind  distant  projections  like  the  pink  cloud-banks  of 
sunset;  sudden  plunges  among  cottages  and  gardens,  life 
and  activity,  followed  by  as  sudden  plunges  into  the  sombre 
twilight  and  stillness  of  the  woods ;  flitting  visions  of  white 


248 

fortresses  and  beacon  towers  pictured  against  the  sky  on 
remote  hill-tops ;  glimpses  of  shining  green  sea  caught  for 
a  moment  through  opening  headlands,  then  lost  again; 
more  woods  and  solitude ;  and  by-and-by  another  turn  lays 
bare,  without  warning,  the  full  sweep  of  the  inland  ocean, 
enriched  with  its  bars  of  soft  color,  and  graced  with  its 
wandering  sails. 

Take  any  road  you  please,  you  may  depend  upon  it  you 
will  not  stay  in  it  half  a  mile.  Your  road  is  everything 
that  a  road  ought  to  be:  it  is  bordered  with  trees,  and 
with  strange  plants  and  flowers;  it  is  shady  and  pleasant, 
or  sunny  and  still  pleasant ;  it  carries  you  by  the  prettiest 
and  peacefulest  and  most  home-like  of  homes,  and  through 
stretches  of  forest  that  lie  in  a  deep  hush  sometimes,  and 
sometimes  are  alive  with  the  music  of  birds;  it  curves 
always,  which  is  a  continual  promise,  whereas  straight  roads 
reveal  everything  at  a  glance  and  kill  interest.  Your  road 
is  all  this,  and  yet  you  will  not  stay  in  it  half  a  mile, 
for  the  reason  that  little  seductive,  mysterious  roads  are 
always  branching  out  from  it  on  either  hand,  and  as  these 
curve  sharply  also  and  hide  what  is  beyond,  you  cannot 
resist  the  temptation  to  desert  your  own  chosen  road  and 
explore  them.  You  are  usually  paid  for  your  trouble ;  con 
sequently,  your  walk  inland  always  turns  out  to  be  one  of 
the  most  crooked,  involved,  purposeless,  and  interesting  ex 
periences  a  body  can  imagine.  There  is  enough  of  variety. 
Sometimes  you  are  in  the  level  open,  with  marshes  thick 
grown  with  flag-lances  that  are  ten  feet  high  on  the  one 
hand,  and  potato  and  onion  orchards  on  the  other;  next, 
you  are  on  a  hill-top,  with  the  ocean  and  the  islands  spread 
around  you ;  presently  the  road  winds  through  a  deep  cut, 
shut  in  by  perpendicular  walls  thirty  or  forty  feet  high, 
marked  with  the  oddest  and  abruptest  stratum  lines,  sug 
gestive  of  sudden  and  eccentric  old  upheavals,  and  gar- 


249 

nished  with  here  and  there  a  clinging  adventurous  flower, 
and  here  and  there  a  dangling  vine;  and  by-and-by  your 
way  is  along  the  sea  edge,  and  you  may  look  down  a 
fathom  or  two  through  the  transparent  water  and  watch 
the  diamond-like  flash  and  play  of  the  light  upon  the  rocks 
and  sands  on  the  bottom  until  you  are  tired  of  it  —  if  you 
are  so  constituted  as  to  be  able  to  get  tired  of  it. 

You  may  march  the  country  roads  in  maiden  meditation, 
fancy  free,  by  field  and  farm,  for  no  dog  will  plunge  out  at 
you  from  unsuspected  gate,  with  breath-taking  surprise  of 
ferocious  bark,  noth withstanding  it  is  a  Christian  land  and  a 
civilized.  We  saw  upwards  of  a  million  cats  in  Bermuda, 
but  the  people  are  very  abstemious  in  the  matter  of  dogs. 
Two  or  three  nights  we  prowled  the  country  far  and  wide, 
and  never  once  were  accosted  by  a  dog.  It  is  a  great  priv 
ilege  to  visit  such  a  land.  The  cats  were  no  offence  when 
properly  distributed,  but  when  piled  they  obstructed  travel. 

As  we  entered  the  edge  of  the  town  that  Sunday  after 
noon,  we  stopped  at  a  cottage  to  get  a  drink  of  water.  The 
proprietor,  a  middle-aged  man  with  a  good  face,  asked  us 
to  sit  down  and  rest.  His  dame  brought  chairs,  and  we 
grouped  ourselves  in  the  shade  of  the  trees  by  the  door. 
Mr.  Smith — that  was  not  his  name,  but  it  will  answer — 
questioned  us  about  ourselves  and  our  country,  and  we  an 
swered  him  truthfully,  as  a  general  thing,  and  questioned 
him  in  return.  It  was  all  very  simple  and  pleasant  and  so 
ciable.  Rural,  too  ;  for  there  was  a  pig  and  a  small  donkey 
and  a  hen  anchored  out,  close  at  hand,  by  cords  to  their 
legs,  on  a  spot  that  purported  to  be  grassy.  Presently,  a 
woman  passed  along,  and  although  she  coldly  said  nothing 
she  changed  the  drift  of  our  talk.  Said  Smith  : — 

"  She  didn't  look  this  way,  you  noticed  ?  Well,  she  is 
our  next  neighbor  on  one  side,  and  there's  another  family 
that's  our  next  neighbors  on  the  other  side ;  but  there's  a 


general  coolness  all  around  now,  and  we  don't  speak.  Yet 
these  three  families,  one  generation  and  another,  have  lived 
here  side  by  side  and  been  as  friendly  as  weavers  for  a 
hundred  and  fifty  years,  till  about  a  year  ago." 

"  Why,  what  calamity  could  have  been  powerful  enough 
to  break  up  so  old  a  friendship  ?" 

"  Well,  it  was  too  bad,  but  it  couldn't  be  helped.  It  hap 
pened  like  this :  About  a  year  or  more  ago,  the  rats  got  to 
pestering  my  place  a  good  deal,  and  I  set  up  a  steel-trap  in 
my  backyard.  Both  of  these  neighbors  run  considerable 
to  cats,  and  so  I  warned  them  about  the  trap,  because 
their  cats  were  pretty  sociable  around  here  nights,  and  they 
might  get  into  trouble  without  my  intending  it.  Well,  they 
shut  up  their  cats  for  a  while,  but  you  know  how  it  is  with 
people  ;  they  got  careless,  and  sure  enough  one  night  the 
trap  took  Mrs.  Jones's  principal  tomcat  into  camp  and  fin 
ished  him  up.  In  the  morning  Mrs.  Jones  comes  here  with 
the  corpse  in  her  arms,  and  cries  and  takes  on  the  same  as 
if  it  was  a  child.  It  was  a  cat  by  the  name  of  Yelverton — 
Hector  G.  Yelverton  —  a  troublesome  old  rip,  with  no  more 
principle  than  an  Injun,  though  you  couldn't  make  her  be 
lieve  it.  I  said  all  a  man  could  to  comfort  her,  but  no, 
nothing  would  do  but  I  must  pay  for  him.  Finally,  I  said 
I  warn't  investing  in  cats  now  as  much  as  I  was,  and  with 
that  she  walked  off  in  a  huff,  carrying  the  remains  with 
her.  That  closed  our  intercourse  with  the  Joneses.  Mrs. 
Jones  joined  another  church  and  took  her  tribe  with  her. 
She  said  she  would  not  hold  fellowship  with  assassins. 
Well,  by-and-by  comes  Mrs.  Brown's  turn  —  she  that  went 
by  here  a  minute  ago.  She  had  a  disgraceful  old  yellow 
cat  that  she  thought  as  much  of  as  if  he  was  twins,  and  one 
night  he  tried  that  trap  on  his  neck,  and  it  fitted  him  so,  and 
was  so  sort  of  satisfactory,  that  he  laid  down  and  curled  up 
and  stayed  with  it.  Such  was  the  end  of  Sir  John  Baldwin." 


"  Was  that  the  name  of  the  cat  ?" 

"  The  same.  There's  cats  around  here  with  names  that 
would  surprise  you.  Maria"  (to  his  wife),  "  what  was  that 
cat's  name  that  eat  a  keg  of  ratsbane  by  mistake  over  at 
Hooper's,  and  started  home  and  got  struck  by  lightning  and 
took  the  blind  staggers  and  fell  in  the  well  and  was  most 
drowned  before  they  could  fish  him  out  ?" 

"  That  was  that  colored  Deacon  Jackson's  cat.  I  only 
remember  the  last  end  of  its  name,  which  was  Hold-The- 
Fort-For-I-Am-Coming  Jackson." 

"  Sho  !  that  ain't  the  one.  That's  the  one  that  eat  up  an 
entire  box  of  Seidlitz  powders,  and  then  hadn't  any  more 
judgment  than  to  go  and  take  a  drink.  He  was  considered 
to  be  a  great  loss,  but  I  never  could  see  it.  Well,  no  mat 
ter  about  the  names.  Mrs.  Brown  wanted  to  be  reasona 
ble,  but  Mrs.  Jones  wouldn't  let  her.  She  put  her  up  to 
going  to  law  for  damages.  So  to  law  she  went,  and  had 
the  face  to  claim  seven  shillings  and  sixpence.  It  made  a 
great  stir.  All  the  neighbors  went  to  court.  Everybody 
took  sides.  It  got  hotter  and  hotter,  and  broke  up  all  the 
friendships  for  three  hundred  yards  around  —  friendships 
that  had  lasted  for  generations  and  generations. 

"  Well,  I  proved  by  eleven  witnesses  that  the  cat  was  of 
a  low  character  and  very  ornery,  and  warn't  worth  a  can 
celled  postage  -  stamp,  anyway,  taking  the  average  of  cats 
here ;  but  I  lost  the  case.  What  could  I  expect  ?  The  sys 
tem  is  all  wrong  here,  and  is  bound  to  make  revolution  and 
bloodshed  some  day.  You  see,  they  give  the  magistrate  a 
poor  little  starvation  salary,  and  then  turn  him  loose  on  the 
public  to  gouge  for  fees  and  costs  to  live  on.  What  is  the 
natural  result  ?  Why,  he  never  looks  into  the  justice  of  a 
case  —  never  once.  All  he  looks  at  is  which  client  has  got 
the  money.  So  this  one  piled  the  fees  and  costs  and  every 
thing  on  to  me.  I  could  pay  specie,  don't  you  see  ?  and 


252 

he  knew  mighty  well  that  if  he  put  the  verdict  on  to  Mrs. 
Brown,  where  it  belonged,  he'd  have  to  take  his  swag  in 
currency." 

"  Currency  ?     Why,  has  Bermuda  a  currency  ?" 

"Yes — onions.  And  they  were  forty  per  cent,  discount, 
too,  then,  because  the  season  had  been  over  as  much  as  three 
months.  So  I  lost  my  case.  I  had  to  pay  for  that  cat.  But 
the  general  trouble  the  case  made  was  the  worst  thing  about 
it.  Broke  up  so  much  good  feeling.  The  neighbors  don't 
speak  to  each  other  now.  Mrs.  Brown  had  named  a  child 
after  me.  But  she  changed  its  name  right  away.  She  is  a 
Baptist.  Well,  in  the  course  of  baptizing  it  over  again,  it 
got  drowned.  I  was  hoping  we  might  get  to  be  friendly 
again  some  time  or  other,  but  of  course  this  drowning  the 
child  knocked  that  all  out  of  the  question.  It  would  have 
saved  a  world  of  heart-break  and  ill  blood  if  she  had  named 
it  dry." 

I  knew  by  the  sigh  that  this  was  honest.  All  this  trouble 
and  all  this  destruction  of  confidence  in  the  purity  of  the 
bench  on  account  of  a  seven-shilling  lawsuit  about  a  cat ! 
Somehow,  it  seemed  to  "  size  "  the  country. 

At  this  point  we  observed  that  an  English  flag  had  just 
been  placed  at  half-mast  on  a  building  a  hundred  yards 
away.  I  and  my  friends  were  busy  in  an  instant  trying  to 
imagine  whose  death,  among  the  island  dignitaries,  could 
command  such  a  mark  of  respect  as  this.  Then  a  shud 
der  shook  them  and  me  at  the  same  moment,  and  I  knew 
that  we  had  jumped  to  one  and  the  same  conclusion : 
"  The  governor  has  gone  to  England ;  it  is  for  the  British 
admiral !" 

At  this  moment  Mr.  Smith  noticed  the  flag.  He  said 
with  emotion, — 

"That's  on  a  boarding-house.  I  judge  there's  a  boarder 
dead." 


253 

A  dozen  other  flags  within  view  went  to  half-mast. 
"  It's  a  boarder,  sure,"  said  Smith. 

"  But  would  they  half-mast  the  flags  here  for  a  boarder, 
Mr.  Smith?1' 

"  Why,  certainly  they  would,  if  he  was  dead." 
That  seemed  to  size  the  country  again. 

17  TS 


JV 

THE  early  twilight  of  a  Sunday  evening  in  Hamilton, 
Bermuda,  is  an  alluring  time.  There  is  just  enough  of 
whispering  breeze,  fragrance  of  flowers,  and  sense  of  re 
pose  to  raise  one's  thoughts  heavenward ;  and  just  enough 
amateur  piano  music  to  keep  him  reminded  of  the  other 
place.  There  are  many  venerable  pianos  in  Hamilton, 
and  they  all  play  at  twilight.  Age  enlarges  and  enriches 
the  powers  of  some  musical  instruments  —  notably  those  of 
the  violin  —  but  it  seems  to  set  a  piano's  teeth  on  edge. 
Most  of  the  music  in  vogue  there  is  the  same  that  those 
pianos  prattled  in  their  innocent  infancy ;  and  there  is 
something  very  pathetic  about  it  when  they  go  over  it  now, 
in  their  asthmatic  second  childhood,  dropping  a  note  here 
and  there,  where  a  tooth  is  gone. 

We  attended  evening  service  at  the  stately  Episcopal 
church  on  the  hill,  where  were  five  or  six  hundred  people, 
half  of  them  white  and  the  other  half  black,  according  to 
the  usual  Bermudian  proportions ;  and  all  well  dressed — 
a  thing  which  is  also  usual  in  Bermuda  and  to  be  confi 
dently  expected.  There  was  good  music,  which  we  heard, 
and  doubtless  a  good  sermon,  but  there  was  a  wonderful 
deal  of  coughing,  and  so  only  the  high  parts  of  the  argu 
ment  carried  over  it.  As  we  came  out,  after  service,  I 
overheard  one  young  girl  say  to  another — 

"  Why,  you  don't  mean  to  say  you  pay  duty  on  gloves 
and  laces  !  I  only  pay  postage ;  have  them  done  up  and 
sent  in  the  Boston  Advertiser." 


255 

There  are  those  who  believe  that  the  most  difficult  thing 
to  create  is  a  woman  who  can  comprehend  that  it  is  wrong 
to  smuggle ;  and  that  an  impossible  thing  to  create  is  a 
woman  who  will  not  smuggle,  whether  or  no,  when  she  gets 
a  chance.  But  these  may  be  errors. 

We  went  wandering  off  toward  the  country,  and  were 
soon  far  down  in  the  lonely  black  depths  of  a  road  that 
was  roofed  over  with  the  dense  foliage  of  a  double  rank  of 
great  cedars.  There  was  no  sound  of  any  kind,  there;  it 
was  perfectly  still.  And  it  was  so  dark  that  one  could  de 
tect  nothing  but  sombre  outlines.  We  strode  farther  and 
farther  down  this  tunnel,  cheering  the  way  with  chat. 

Presently  the  chat  took  this  shape  :  "  How  insensibly 
the  character  of  a  people  and  of  a  government  makes  its 
impress  upon  a  stranger,  and  gives  him  a  sense  of  security 
or  of  insecurity  without  his  taking  deliberate  thought  upon 
the  matter  or  asking  anybody  a  question  !  WTe  have  been 
in  this  land  half  a  day ;  we  have  seen  none  but  honest 
faces ;  we  have  noted  the  British  flag  flying,  which  means 
efficient  government  and  good  order ;  so  without  inquiry 
we  plunge  unarmed  and  with  perfect  confidence  into  this 
dismal  place,  which  in  almost  any  other  country  would 
swarm  with  thugs  and  garroters— 

'Sh  !  What  was  that?  Stealthy  footsteps  !  Low  voices! 
We  gasp,  we  close  up  together,  and  wait.  A  vague  shape 
glides  out  of  the  dusk  and  confronts  us.  A  voice  speaks — 
demands  money! 

"  A  shilling,  gentlemen,  if  you  please,  to  help  build  the 
new  Methodist  church." 

Blessed  sound  !  Holy  sound  !  We  contribute  with  thank 
ful  avidity  to  the  new  Methodist  church,  and  are  happy  to 
think  how  lucky  it  was  that  those  little  colored  Sunday- 
school  scholars  did  not  seize  upon  everything  we  had  with 
violence,  before  we  recovered  from  our  momentary  helpless 


256 

condition.  By  the  light  of  cigars  we  write  down  the  names 
of  weightier  philanthropists  than  ourselves  on  the  contribu 
tion-cards,  and  then  pass  on  into  the  farther  darkness,  say 
ing,  What  sort  of  a  government  do  they  call  this,  where 
they  allow  little  black  pious  children,  with  contribution- 
cards,  to  plunge  out  upon  peaceable  strangers  in  the  dark 
and  scare  them  to  death  ? 

We  prowled  on  several  hours,  sometimes  by  the  sea 
side,  sometimes  inland,  and  finally  managed  to  get  lost, 
which  is  a  feat  that  requires  talent  in  Bermuda.  I  had  on 
new  shoes.  They  were  No.  y's  when  I  started,  but  were 
not  more  than  5's  now,  and  still  diminishing.  I  walked 
two  hours  in  those  shoes  after  that,  before  we  reached 
home.  Doubtless  I  could  have  the  reader's  sympathy  for 
the  asking.  Many  people  have  never  had  the  headache  or 
the  toothache,  and  I  am  one  of  those  myself ;  but  every 
body  has  worn  tight  shoes  for  two  or  three  hours,  and 
known  the  luxury  of  taking  them  off  in  a  retired  place  and 
seeing  his  feet  swell  up  and  obscure  the  firmament.  Once 
when  I  was  a  callow,  bashful  cub,  I  took  a  plain,  unsenti 
mental  country  girl  to  a  comedy  one  night.  I  had  known 
her  a  day ;  she  seemed  divine  ;  I  wore  my  new  boots.  At 
the  end  of  the  first  half-hour  she  said,  "  Why  do  you  fidget 
so  with  your  feet?"  I  said,  "  Did  I  ?"  Then  I  put  my  at 
tention  there  and  kept  still.  At  the  end  of  another  half- 
hour  she  said,  "Why  do  you  say,  'Yes,  oh  yes!'  and  'Ha, 
ha,  oh,  certainly !  very  true !'  to  everything  I  say,  when 
half  the  time  those  are  entirely  irrelevant  answers?"  I 
blushed,  and  explained  that  I  had  been  a  little  absent- 
minded.  At  the  end  of  another  half-hour  she  said,  "  Please, 
why  do  you  grin  so  steadfastly  at  vacancy,  and  yet  look  so 
sad  ?"  I  explained  that  I  always  did  that  when  I  was  re 
flecting.  An  hour  passed,  and  then  she  turned  and  con 
templated  me  with  her  earnest  eyes  and  said,  "  Why  do  you 


257 

cry  all  the  time  ?"  I  explained  that  very  funny  comedies 
always  made  me  cry.  At  last  human  nature  surrendered, 
and  I  secretly  slipped  my  boots  off.  This  was  a  mistake. 
I  was  not  able  to  get  them  on  any  more.  It  was  a  rainy 
night;  there  were  no  omnibuses  going  our  way;  and  as  I 
walked  home,  burning  up  with  shame,  with  the  girl  on  one 
arm  and  my  boots  under  the  other,  I  was  an  object  wor 
thy  of  some  compassion  —  especially  in  those  moments  of 
martyrdom  when  I  had  to  pass  through  the  glare  that  fell 
upon  the  pavement  from  street  lamps.  Finally,  this  child  of 
the  forest  said,  "  Where  are  your  boots  ?"  and  being  taken 
unprepared,  I  put  a  fitting  finish  to  the  follies  of  the  even 
ing  with  the  stupid  remark,  "The  higher  classes  do  not 
wear  them  to  the  theatre." 

The  Reverend  had  been  an  army  chaplain  during  the 
war,  and  while  we  were  hunting  for  a  road  that  would  lead 
to  Hamilton  he  told  a  story  about  two  dying  soldiers  which 
interested  me  in  spite  of  my  feet.  He  said  that  in  the  Po 
tomac  hospitals  rough  pine  coffins  were  furnished  by  gov 
ernment,  but  that  it  was  not  always  possible  to  keep  up 
with  the  demand ;  so,  when  a  man  died,  if  there  was  no 
coffin  at  hand  he  was  buried  without  one.  One  night,  late, 
two  soldiers  lay  dying  in  a  ward.  A  man  came  in  with  a 
coffin  on  his  shoulder,  and  stood  trying  to  make  up  his 
mind  which  of  these  two  poor  fellows  would  be  likely  to 
need  it  first.  Both  of  them  begged  for  it  with  their  fading 
eyes  —  they  were  past  talking.  Then  one  of  them  pro 
truded  a  wasted  hand  from  his  blankets  and  made  a  feeble 
beckoning  sign  with  the  fingers,  to  signify,  "  Be  a  good  fel 
low  ;  put  it  under  my  bed,  please."  The  man  did  it,  and 
left.  The  lucky  soldier  painfully  turned  himself  in  his  bed 
until  he  faced  the  other  warrior,  raised  himself  partly  on 
his  elbow,  and  began  to  work  up  a  mysterious  expression 
of  some  kind  in  his  face.  Gradually,  irksomely,  but  surely 


258 

and  steadily,  it  developed,  and  at  last  it  took  definite  form 
as  a  pretty  successful  wink.  The  sufferer  fell  back  ex 
hausted  with  his  labor,  but  bathed  in  glory.  Now  entered 
a  personal  friend  of  No.  2,  the  despoiled  soldier.  No.  2 
pleaded  with  him  with  eloquent  eyes,  till  presently  he  un 
derstood,  and  removed  the  coffin  from  under  No.  I's  bed 
and  put  it  under  No.  2*s.  No.  2  indicated  his  joy,  and 
made  some  more  signs ;  the  friend  understood  again,  and 
put  his  arm  under  No.  2's  shoulders  and  lifted  him  partly 
up.  Then  the  dying  hero  turned  the  dim  exultation  of  his 
eye  upon  No.  i,  and  began  a  slow  and  labored  work  with 
his  hands ;  gradually  he  lifted  one  hand  up  toward  his 
face ;  it  grew  weak  and  dropped  back  again  ;  once  more 
he  made  the  effort,  but  failed  again.  He  took  a  rest ;  he 
gathered  all  the  remnant  of  his  strength,  and  this  time  he 
slowly  but  surely  carried  his  thumb  to  the  side  of  his  nose, 
spread  the  gaunt  fingers  wide  in  triumph,  and  dropped 
back  dead.  That  picture  sticks  by  me  yet.  The  "  situa 
tion  "  is  unique. 

The  next  morning,  at  what  seemed  a  very  early  hour,  the 
little  white  table-waiter  appeared  suddenly  in  my  room  and 
shot  a  single  word  out  of  himself  :  "  Breakfast !" 

This  was  a  remarkable  boy  in  many  ways.  He  was 
about  eleven  years  old ;  he  had  alert,  intent  black  eyes ;  he 
was  quick  of  movement ;  there  was  no  hesitation,  no  un 
certainty  about  him  anywhere  ;  there  was  a  military  decision 
in  his  lip,  his  manner,  his  speech,  that  was  an  astonishing 
thing  to  see  in  a  little  chap  like  him  ;  he  wasted  no  words ; 
his  answers  always  came  so  quick  and  brief  that  they 
seemed  to  be  part  of  the  question  that  had  been  asked  in 
stead  of  a  reply  to  it.  When  he  stood  at  table  with  his  fly- 
brush,  rigid,  erect,  his  face  set  in  a  cast-iron  gravity,  he  was 
a  statue  till  he  detected  a  dawning  want  in  somebody's 
eye ;  then  he  pounced  down,  supplied  it,  and  was  instantly 


259 

a  statue  again.  When  he  was  sent  to  the  kitchen  for  any 
thing,  he  marched  upright  till  he  got  to  the  door ;  he  turned 
hand-springs  the  rest  of  the  way. 

"  Breakfast !" 

I  thought  I  would  make  one  more  effort  to  get  some  con 
versation  out  of  this  being. 

"  Have  you  called  the  Reverend,  or  are — " 

"  Yes  s'r  !" 

"  Is  it  early,  or  is — " 

"Eight-five." 

"  Do  you  have  to  do  all  the  *  chores,'  or  is  there  somebody 
to  give  you  a  1 — " 

"Colored  girl." 

"  Is  there  only  one  parish  in  this  island,  or  are  there — " 

"  Eight !" 

"  Is  the  big  church  on  the  hill  a  parish  church,  or  is 
it—" 

"  Chapel-of-ease !" 

"  Is  taxation  here  classified  into  poll,  parish,  town,  and — " 

"  Don't  know  !" 

Before  I  could  cudgel  another  question  out  of  my  head, 
he  was  below>  hand  -  springing  across  the  backyard.  He 
had  slid  down  the  balusters,  head-first.  I  gave  up  trying 
to  provoke  a  discussion  with  him.  The  essential  element 
of  discussion  had  been  left  out  of  him  ;  his  answers  were  so 
final  and  exact  that  they  did  not  leave  a  doubt  to  hang 
conversation  on.  I  suspect  that  there  is  the  making  of  a 
mighty  man  or  a  mighty  rascal  in  this  boy — according  to 
circumstances  —  but  they  are  going  to  apprentice  him  to  a 
carpenter.  It  is  the  way  the  world  uses  its  opportunities. 

During  this  day  and  the  next  we  took  carriage  drives 
about  the  island  and  over  to  the  town  of  St.  George's,  fif 
teen  or  twenty  miles  away.  Such  hard,  excellent  roads  to 
drive  over  are  not  to  be  found  elsewhere  out  of  Europe. 


260 


An  intelligent  young  colored  man  drove  us,  and  acted  as 
guide-book.  In  the  edge  of  the  town  we  saw  five  or  six 
mountain-cabbage  palms  (atrocious  name  !)  standing  in  a 
straight  row,  and  equidistant  from  each  other.  These  were 
not  the  largest  or  the  tallest  trees  I  have  ever  seen,  but 
they  were  the  stateliest,  the  most  majestic.  That  row  of 
them  must  be  the  nearest  that  nature  has  ever  come  to 
counterfeiting  a  colonnade.  These  trees  are  all  the  same 
height,  say  sixty  feet ;  the  trunks  as  gray  as  granite,  with  a 
very  gradual  and  perfect  taper ;  without  sign  of  branch  or 
knot  or  flaw ;  the  surface  not  looking  like  bark,  but  like 
granite  that  has  been  dressed  and  not  polished.  Thus  all 
the  way  up  the  diminishing  shaft  for  fifty  feet ;  then  it 
begins  to  take  the  appearance  of  being  closely  wrapped, 
spool-fashion,  with  gray  cord,  or  of  having  been  turned  in  a 
lathe.  Above  this  point  there  is  an  outward  swell,  and 
thence  upwards,  for  six  feet  or  more,  the  cylinder  is  a  bright, 
fresh  green,  and  is  formed  of  wrappings  like  those  of  an  ear 
of  green  Indian  -  corn.  Then  comes  the  great,  spraying 
palm  plume,  also  green.  Other  palm-trees  always  lean  out 
of  the  perpendicular,  or  have  a  curve  in  them.  But  the 
plumb-line  could  not  detect  a  deflection  in  any  individual  of 
this  stately  row;  they  stand  as  straight  as  the  colonnade  of 
Baalbec ;  they  have  its  great  height,  they  have  its  graceful 
ness,  they  have  its  dignity ;  in  moonlight  or  twilight,  and 
shorn  of  their  plumes,  they  would  duplicate  it. 

The  birds  we  came  across  in  the  country  were  singu 
larly  tame ;  even  that  wild  creature,  the  quail,  would  pick 
around  in  the  grass  at  ease  while  we  inspected  it  and  talked 
about  it  at  leisure.  A  small  bird  of  the  canary  species 
had  to  be  stirred  up  with  the  butt-end  of  the  whip  before 
it  would  move,  and  then  it  moved  only  a  couple  of  feet. 
It  is  said  that  even  the  suspicious  flea  is  tame  and  soci 
able  in  Bermuda,  and  will  allow  himself  to  be  caught  and 


261 


caressed  without  misgivings.  This  should  be  taken  with 
allowance,  for  doubtless  there  is  more  or  less  brag  about  it. 
In  San  Francisco  they  used  to  claim  that  their  native  flea 
could  kick  a  child  over,  as  if  it  were  a  merit  in  a  flea  to  be 
able  to  do  that ;  as  if  the  knowledge  of  it  trumpeted 
abroad  ought  to  entice  immigration.  Such  a  thing  in  nine 
cases  out  of  ten  would  be  almost  sure  to  deter  a  thinking 
man  from  coming. 

We  saw  no  bugs  or  reptiles  to  speak  of,  and  so  I  was 
thinking  of  saying  in  print,  in  a  general  way,  that  there 
were  none  at  all ;  but  one  night  after  I  had  gone  to  bed, 
the  Reverend  came  into  my  room  carrying  something,  and 
asked,  "  Is  this  your  boot  ?"  I  said  it  was,  and  he  said  he 
had  met  a  spider  going  off  with  it.  Next  morning  he 
stated  that  just  at  dawn  the  same  spider  raised  his  window 
and  was  coming  in  to  get  a  shirt,  but  saw  him  and  fled. 

I  inquired,  "  Did  he  get  the  shirt  ?'' 

"No." 

"  How  did  you  know  it  was  a  shirt  he  was  after?" 

"  I  could  see  it  in  his  eye." 

We  inquired  around,  but  could  hear  of  no  Bermudian 
spider  capable  of  doing  these  things.  Citizens  said  that 
their  largest  spiders  could  not  more  than  spread  their  legs 
over  an  ordinary  saucer,  and  that  they  had  always  been 
considered  honest.  Here  was  testimony  of  a  clergyman 
against  the  testimony  of  mere  worldlings — interested  ones, 
too.  On  the  whole,  I  judged  it  best  to  lock  up  my  things. 

Here  and  there  on  the  country  roads  we  found  lemon, 
papaw,  orange,  lime,  and  fig  trees;  also  several  sorts  of 
palms,  among  them  the  cocoa,  the  date,  and  the  palmetto. 
We  saw  some  bamboos  forty  feet  high,  with  stems  as  thick 
as  a  man's  arm.  Jungles  of  the  mangrove-tree  stood  up 
out  of  swamps,  propped  on  their  interlacing  roots  as  upon 
a  tangle  of  stilts.  In  drier  places  the  noble  tamarind  sent 


262 


down  its  grateful  cloud  of  shade.  Here  and  there  the 
blossomy  tamarisk  adorned  the  roadside.  There  was  a 
curious  gnarled  and  twisted  black  tree,  without  a  single 
leaf  on  it.  It  might  have  passed  itself  off  for  a  dead 
apple-tree  but  for  the  fact  that  it  had  a  star-like,  red-hot 
flower  sprinkled  sparsely  over  its  person.  It  had  the  scat- 
tery  red  glow  that  a  constellation  might  have  when  glimpsed 
through  smoked  glass.  It  is  possible  that  our  constella 
tions  have  been  so  constructed  as  to  be  invisible  through 
smoked  glass ;  if  this  is  so  it  is  a  great  mistake. 

We  saw  a  tree  that  bears  grapes,  and  just  as  calmly  and 
unostentatiously  as  a  vine  would  do  it.  We  saw  an  India- 
rubber-tree,  but  out  of  season,  possibly,  so  there  were  no 
shoes  on  it,  nor  suspenders,  nor  anything  that  a  person 
would  properly  expect  to  find  there.  This  gave  it  an  im 
pressively  fraudulent  look.  There  was  exactly  one  mahog 
any-tree  on  the  island.  I  know  this  to  be  reliable,  because 
I  saw  a  man  who  said  he  had  counted  it  many  a  time  and 
could  not  be  mistaken.  He  was  a  man  with  a  harelip 
and  a  pure  heart,  and  everybody  said  he  was  as  true  as 
steel.  Such  men  are  all  too  few. 

One's  eye  caught  near  and  far  the  pink  cloud  of  the 
oleander  and  the  red  blaze  of  the  pomegranate  blossom. 
In  one  piece  of  wild  wood  the  morning-glory  vines  had 
wrapped  the  trees  to  their  very  tops,  and  decorated  them 
all  over  with  couples  and  clusters  of  great  blue  bells — a 
fine  and  striking  spectacle,  at  a  little  distance.  But  the 
dull  cedar  is  everywhere,  and  is  the  prevailing  foliage. 
One  does  not  appreciate  how  dull  it  is  until  the  varnished, 
bright  green  attire  of  the  infrequent  lemon-tree  pleasantly 
intrudes  its  contrast.  In  one  thing  Bermuda  is  eminently 
tropical  —  was  in  May,  at  least  —  the  unbrilliant,  slightly 
faded,  unrejoicing  look  of  the  landscape.  For  forests  ar 
rayed  in  a  blemishless  magnificence  of  glowing  green  foli- 


age  that  seems  to  exult  in  its  own  existence  and  can  move 
the  beholder  to  an  enthusiasm  that  will  make  him  either 
shout  or  cry,  one  must  go  to  countries  that  have  malignant 
winters. 

We  saw  scores  of  colored  farmers  digging  their  crops  of 
potatoes  and  onions,  their  wives  and  children  helping — 
entirely  contented  and  comfortable,  if  looks  go  for  any 
thing.  We  never  met  a  man,  or  woman,  or  child  anywhere 
in  this  sunny  island  who  seemed  to  be  unprosperous,  or 
discontented,  or  sorry  about  anything.  This  sort  of  mo 
notony  became  very  tiresome  presently,  and  even  something 
worse.  The  spectacle  of  an  entire  nation  grovelling  in  con 
tentment  is  an  infuriating  thing.  We  felt  the  lack  of  some 
thing  in  this  community — a  vague,  an  undennable,  an  elu 
sive  something,  and  yet  a  lack.  But  after  considerable 
thought  we  made  out  what  it  was — tramps.  Let  them  go 
there,  right  now,  in  a  body.  It  is  utterly  virgin  soil.  Pas 
sage  is  cheap.  Every  true  patriot  in  America  will  help  buy 
tickets.  Whole  armies  of  these  excellent  beings  can  be 
spared  from  our  midst  and  our  polls;  they  will  find  a  de 
licious  climate  and  a  green,  kind-hearted  people.  There 
are  potatoes  and  onions  for  all,  and  a  generous  welcome  for 
the  first  batch  that  arrives,  and  elegant  graves  for  the  second. 

It  was  the  Early  Rose  potato  the  people  were  digging. 
Later  in  the  year  they  have  another  crop,  which  they  call 
the  Garnet.  We  buy  their  potatoes  (retail)  at  fifteen  dol 
lars  a  barrel;  and  those  colored  farmers  buy  ours  for  a 
song,  and  live  on  them.  Havana  might  exchange  cigars 
with  Connecticut  in  the  same  advantageous  way,  if  she 
thought  of  it. 

We  passed  a  roadside  grocery  with  a  sign  up,  "  Potatoes 
Wanted."  An  ignorant  stranger,  doubtless.  He  could  not 
have  gone  thirty  steps  from  his  place  without  finding  plenty 
of  them. 


In  several  fields  the  arrowroot  crop  was  already  sprout 
ing.  Bermuda  used  to  make  a  vast  annual  profit  out  of  this 
staple  before  fire-arms  came  into  such  general  use. 

The  island  is  not  large.  Somewhere  in  the  interior  a 
man  ahead  of  us  had  a  very  slow  horse.  I  suggested  that 
we  had  better  go  by  him ;  but  the  driver  said  the  man  had 
but  a  little  way  to  go.  I  waited  to  see,  wondering  how  he 
could  know.  Presently  the  man  did  turn  down  another 
road.  I  asked,  "  How  did  you  know  he  would  ?" 

"  Because  I  knew  the  man,  and  where  he  lived." 

I  asked  him,  satirically,  if  he  knew  everybody  in  the 
island;  he  answered,  very  simply,  that  he  did.  This  gives 
a  body's  mind  a  good  substantial  grip  on  the  dimensions  of 
the  place. 

At  the  principal  hotel  in  St.  George's,  a  young  girl,  with  a 
sweet,  serious  face,  said  we  could  not  be  furnished  with  din 
ner,  because  we  had  not  been  expected,  and  no  preparation 
had  been  made.  Yet  it  was  still  an  hour  before  dinner-time. 
We  argued,  she  yielded  not ;  we  supplicated,  she  was  serene. 
The  hotel  had  not  been  expecting  an  inundation  of  two  peo 
ple,  and  so  it  seemed  that  we  should  have  to  go  home  din- 
nerless.  I  said  we  were  not  very  hungry ;  a  fish  would  do. 
My  little  maid  answered,  it  was  not  the  market-day  for  fish. 
Things  began  to  look  serious ;  but  presently  the  boarder 
who  sustained  the  hotel  came  in,  and  when  the  case  was  laid 
before  him  he  was  cheerfully  willing  to  divide.  So  we  had 
much  pleasant  chat  at  table  about  St.  George's  chief  indus 
try,  the  repairing  of  damaged  ships  ;  and  in  between  we  had 
a  soup  that  had  something  in  it  that  seemed  to  taste  like  the 
hereafter,  but  it  proved  to  be  only  pepper  of  a  particularly 
vivacious  kind.  And  we  had  an  iron-clad  chicken  that  was 
deliciously  cooked,  but  not  in  the  right  way.  Baking  was 
not  the  thing  to  convince  his  sort.  He  ought  to  have  been 
put  through  a  quartz  mill  until  the  "  tuck  "  was  taken  out  of 


265 

him,  and  then  boiled  till  we  came  again.  We  got  a  good 
deal  of  sport  out  of  him,  but  not  enough  sustenance  to  leave 
the  victory  on  our  side.  No  matter ;  we  had  potatoes  and 
a  pie  and  a  sociable  good  time.  Then  a  ramble  through 
the  town,  which  is  a  quaint  one,  with  interesting,  crooked 
streets,  and  narrow,  crooked  lanes,  with  here  and  there  a 
grain  of  dust.  Here,  as  in  Hamilton,  the  dwellings  had 
Venetian  blinds  of  a  very  sensible  pattern.  They  were  not 
double  shutters,  hinged  at  the  sides,  but  a  single  broad  shut 
ter,  hinged  at  the  top ;  you  push  it  outward,  from  the  bot 
tom,  and  fasten  it  at  any  angle  required  by  the  sun  or  de 
sired  by  yourself. 

All  about  the  island  one  sees  great  white  scars  on  the  hill- 
slopes.  These  are  dished  spaces  where  the  soil  has  been 
scraped  off  and  the  coral  exposed  and  glazed  with  hard 
whitewash.  Some  of  these  are  a  quarter-acre  in  size.  They 
catch  and  carry  the  rainfall  to  reservoirs ;  for  the  wells  are 
few  and  poor,  and  there  are  no  natural  springs  and  no  brooks. 

They  say  that  the  Bermuda  climate  is  mild  and  equable, 
with  never  any  snow  or  ice,  and  that  one  may  be  very  com 
fortable  in  spring  clothing  the  year  round,  there.  We  had 
delightful  and  decided  summer  weather  in  May,  with  a  flam 
ing  sun  that  permitted  the  thinnest  of  raiment,  and  yet  there 
was  a  constant  breeze  ;  consequently  we  were  never  discom 
forted  by  heat.  At  four  or  five  in  the  afternoon  the  mer 
cury  began  to  go  down,  and  then  it  became  necessary  to 
change  to  thick  garments.  I  went  to  St.  George's  in  the 
morning  clothed  in  the  thinnest  of  linen,  and  reached  home 
at  five  in  the  afternoon  with  two  overcoats  on.  The  nights 
are  said  to  be  always  cool  and  bracing.  We  had  mosquito 
nets,  and  the  Reverend  said  the  mosquitoes  persecuted  him  a 
good  deal.  I  often  heard  him  slapping  and  banging  at  these 
imaginary  creatures  with  as  much  zeal  as  if  they  had  been 
real.  There  are  no  mosquitoes  in  the  Bermudas  in  May. 


J66 


The  poet  Thomas  Moore  spent  several  months  in  Ber 
muda  more  than  seventy  years  ago.  He  was  sent  out  to  be 
registrar  of  the  admiralty.  I  am  not  quite  clear  as  to  the 
function  of  a  registrar  of  the  admiralty  of  Bermuda,  but  I 
think  it  is  his  duty  to  keep  a  record  of  all  the  admirals 
born  there.  I  will  inquire  into  this.  There  was  not  much 
doing  in  admirals,  and  Moore  got  tired  and  went  away.  A 
reverently  preserved  souvenir  of  him  is  still  one  of  the 
treasures  of  the  islands.  I  gathered  the  idea,  vaguely, 
that  it  was  a  jug,  but  was  persistently  thwarted  in  the 
twenty-two  efforts  I  made  to  visit  it.  However,  it  was  no 
matter,  for  I  found  out  afterwards  that  it  was  only  a 
chair. 

There  are  several  "  sights  "  in  the  Bermudas,  of  course, 
but  they  are  easily  avoided.  This  is  a  great  advantage — 
one  cannot  have  it  in  Europe.  Bermuda  is  the  right  country 
for  a  jaded  man  to  "loaf"  in.  There  are  no  harassments ; 
the  deep  peace  and  quiet  of  the  country  sink  into  one's 
body  and  bones  and  give  his  conscience  a  rest,  and  chloro 
form  the  legion  of  invisible  small  devils  that  are  always 
trying  to  whitewash  his  hair.  A  good  many  Americans  go 
there  about  the  first  of  March  and  remain  until  the  early 
spring  weeks  have  finished  their  villanies  at  home. 

The  Bermudians  are  hoping  soon  to  have  telegraphic 
communication  with  the  world.  But  even  after  they  shall 
have  acquired  this  curse  it  will  still  be  a  good  country  to 
go  to  for  a  vacation,  for  there  are  charming  little  islets 
scattered  about  the  enclosed  sea  where  one  could  live  se 
cure  from  interruption.  The,  telegraph  boy  would  have  to 
come  in  a  boat,  and  one  could  easily  kill  him  while  he  was 
making  his  landing. 

We  had  spent  four  days  in  Bermuda  —  three  bright  ones 
out  of  doors  and  one  rainy  one  in  the  house,  we  being  dis 
appointed  about  getting  a  yacht  for  a  sail ;  and  now  our 


26? 


furlough  was  ended,  and  we  entered  into  the  ship  again  and 
sailed  homeward. 

Among  the  passengers  was  a  most  lean  and  lank  and 
forlorn  invalid,  whose  weary  look  and  patient  eyes  and  sor 
rowful  mien  awoke  every  one's  kindly  interest  and  stirred 
every  one's  compassion.  When  he  spoke — which  was  but 
seldom — there  was  a  gentleness  in  his  tones  that  made  each 
hearer  his  friend.  The  second  night  of  the  voyage — we 
were  all  in  the  smoking-cabin  at  the  time — he  drifted,  little 
by  little,  into  the  general  conversation.  One  thing  brought 
on  another,  and  so,  in  due  course,  he  happened  to  fall  into 
the  biographical  vein,  and  the  following  strange  narrative 
was  the  result. 

THE  INVALID'S  STORY*       < 

I  seem  sixty  and  married,  but  these  effects  are  due  to 
my  condition  and  sufferings,  for  I  am  a  bachelor,  and  only 
forty-one.  It  will  be  hard  for  you  to  believe  that  I,  who 
am  now  but  a  shadow,  was  a  hale,  hearty  man  two  short 
years  ago  —  a  man  of  iron,  a  very  athlete  ! — yet  such  is  the 
simple  truth.  But  stranger  still  than  this  fact  is  the  way 
in  which  I  lost  my  health.  I  lost  it  through  helping  to  take 
care  of  a  box  of  guns  on  a  two-hundred-mile  railway  jour 
ney  one  winter's  night.  It  is  the  actual  truth,  and  I  will 
tell  you  about  it. 

I  belong  in  Cleveland,  Ohio.  One  winter's  night,  two 
years  ago,  I  reached  home  just  after  dark,  in  a  driving 
snow-storm,  and  the  first  thing  I  heard  when  I  entered  the 
house  was  that  my  dearest  boyhood  friend  and  school-mate, 
John  B.  Hackett,  had  died  the  day  before,  and  that  his  last 

*  Left  out  of  these  "  Rambling  Notes,"  when  originally  published  in 
the  Atlantic  Monthly,  because  it  was  feared  that  the  story  was  not  true, 
and  at  that  time  there  was  no  way  of  proving  that  it  was  not. — M.  T. 


268 


utterance  had  been  a  desire  that  I  would  take  his  remains 
home  to  his  poor  old  father  and  mother  in  Wisconsin.  I 
was  greatly  shocked  and  grieved,  but  there  was  no  time  to 
waste  in  emotions ;  I  must  start  at  once.  I  took  the  card, 
marked  "  Deacon  Levi  Hackett,  Bethlehem,  Wisconsin," 
and  hurried  off  through  the  whistling  storm  to  the  railway 
station.  Arrived  there  I  found  the  long  white -pine  box 
which  had  been  described  to  me  ;  I  fastened  the  card  to  it 
with  some  tacks,  saw  it  put  safely  aboard  the  express  car, 
and  then  ran  into  the  eating-room  to  provide  myself  with  a 
sandwich  and  some  cigars.  When  I  returned,  presently, 
there  was  my  coffin-box  back  again,  apparently,  and  a  young 
fellow  examining  around  it,  with  a  card  in  his  hand,  and 
some  tacks  and  a  hammer !  I  was  astonished  and  puzzled. 
He  began  to  nail  on  his  card,  and  I  rushed  out  to  the  ex 
press  car,  in  a  good  deal  of  a  state  of  mind,  to  ask  for  an 
explanation.  But  no — there  was  my  box,  all  right,  in  the 
express  car;  it  hadn't  been  disturbed.  [The  fact  is  that 
without  my  suspecting  it  a  prodigious  mistake  had  been 
made.  I  was  carrying  off  a  box  of  guns  which  that  young 
fellow  had  come  to  the  station  to  ship  to  a  rifle  company  in 
Peoria,  Illinois,  and  he  had  got  my  corpse  !]  Just  then  the 
conductor  sung  out  "  All  aboard,"  and  I  jumped  into  the 
express  car  and  got  a  comfortable  seat  on  a  bale  of  buckets. 
The  expressman  was  there,  hard  at  work  —  a  plain  man  of 
fifty,  with  a  simple,  honest,  good-natured  face,  and  a  breezy, 
practical  heartiness  in  his  general  style.  As  the  train 
moved  off  a  stranger  skipped  into  the  car  and  set  a  package 
of  peculiarly  mature  and  capable  Limburger  cheese  on  one 
end  of  my  coffin-box — I  mean  my  box  of  guns.  That  is  to  say, 
I  know  now  that  it  was  Limburger  cheese,  but  at  that  time  I 
never  had  heard  of  the  article  in  my  life,  and  of  course  was 
wholly  ignorant  of  its  character.  Well,  we  sped  through 
the  wild  night,  the  bitter  storm  raged  on,  a  cheerless  misery 


269 

stole  over  me,  my  heart  went  down,  down,  down  !  The  old 
expressman  made  a  brisk  remark  or  two  about  the  tempest 
and  the  arctic  weather,  slammed  his  sliding  doors  to,  and 
bolted  them,  closed  his  window  down  tight,  and  then  went 
bustling  around,  here  and  there  and  yonder,  setting  things 
to  rights,  and  all  the  time  contentedly  humming  "  Sweet 
By-and-by,"  in  a  low  tone,  and  flatting  a  good  deal.  Pres 
ently  I  began  to  detect  a  most  evil  and  searching  odor 
stealing  about  on  the  frozen  air.  This  depressed  my  spirits 
still  more,  because  of  course  I  attributed  it  to  my  poor  de 
parted  friend.  There  was  something  infinitely  saddening 
about  his  calling  himself  to  my  remembrance  in  this  dumb, 
pathetic  way,  so  it  was  hard  to  keep  the  tears  back.  More 
over,  it  distressed  me  on  account  of  the  old  expressman, 
who,  I  was  afraid,  might  notice  it.  However,  he  went  hum 
ming  tranquilly  on,  and  gave  no  sign  ;  and  for  this  I  was 
grateful.  Grateful,  yes,  but  still  uneasy;  and  soon  I  began 
to  feel  more  and  more  uneasy  every  minute,  for  every  min 
ute  that  went  by  that  odor  thickened  up  the  more,  and  got 
to  be  more  and  more  gamy  and  hard  to  stand.  Present 
ly,  having  got  things  arranged  to  his  satisfaction,  the  ex 
pressman  got  some  wood  and  made  up  a  tremendous  fire  in 
his  stove.  This  distressed  me  more  than  I  can  tell,  for  I 
could  not  but  feel  that  it  was  a  mistake.  I  was  sure  that  the 
effect  would  be  deleterious  upon  my  poor  departed  friend. 
Thompson  —  the  expressman's  name  was  Thompson,  as  I 
found  out  in  the  course  of  the  night — now  went  poking 
around  his  car,  stopping  up  whatever  stray  cracks  he  could 
find,  remarking  that  it  didn't  make  any  difference  what  kind 
of  a  night  it  was  outside,  he  calculated  to  make  us  com 
fortable,  anyway.  I  said  nothing,  but  I  believed  he  was  not 
choosing  the  right  way.  Meantime  he  was  humming  to 
himself  just  as  before ;  and  meantime,  too,  the  stove  was 
getting  hotter  and  hotter,  and  the  place  closer  and  closer. 

iSTS 


270 

I  felt  myself  growing  pale  and  qualmish,  but  grieved  in  si 
lence  and  said  nothing.  Soon  I  noticed  that  the  "  Sweet 
By-and-by  "  was  gradually  fading  out ;  next  it  ceased  alto 
gether,  and  there  was  an  ominous  stillness.  After  a  few 
moments  Thompson  said, — 

"  Pfew !  I  reckon  it  ain't  no  cinnamon  't  I've  loaded  up 
thish-yer  stove  with  !" 

He  gasped  once  or  twice,  then  moved  toward  the  cof — 
gun-box,  stood  over  that  Limburger  cheese  part  of  a  mo 
ment,  then  came  back  and  sat  down  near  me,  looking  a 
good  deal  impressed.  After  a  contemplative  pause,  he  said, 
indicating  the  box  with  a  gesture — 

"  Friend  of  yourn  ?" 

"  Yes,"  I  said  with  a  sigh. 

"  He's  pretty  ripe,  ain't  he  !" 

Nothing  further  was  said  for  perhaps  a  couple  of  min 
utes,  each  being  busy  with  his  own  thoughts ;  then  Thomp 
son  said,  in  a  low,  awed  voice — 

"  Sometimes  it's  uncertain  whether  they're  really  gone  or 
not — seem  gone,  you  know — body  warm,  joints  limber — 
and  so,  although  you  think  they're  gone,  you  don't  really 
know.  I've  had  cases  in  my  car.  It's  perfectly  awful,  be- 
cuz  you  don't  know  what  minute  they'll  rise  right  up  and 
look  at  you !"  Then,  after  a  pause,  and  slightly  lifting  his 
elbow  toward  the  box  —  "  But  he  ain't  in  no  trance  !  No, 
sir,  I  go  bail  for  him  /" 

We  sat  some  time,  in  meditative  silence,  listening  to  the 
wind  and  the  roar  of  the  train ;  then  Thompson  said,  with 
a  good  deal  of  feeling — 

"  Well-a-well,  we've  all  got  to  go,  they  ain't  no  getting 
around  it.  Man  that  is  born  of  woman  is  of  few  days  and 
far  between,  as  Scriptur'  says.  Yes,  you  look  at  it  any 
way  you  want  to,. it's  awful  solemn  and  cur'us :  they  ain't 
nobody  can  get  around  it ;  all's  got  to  go — just  everybody,  as 


271 

you  may  say.  One  day  you're  hearty  and  strong" — here 
he  scrambled  to  his  feet  and  broke  a  pane  and  stretched  his 
nose  out  at  it  a  moment  or  two,  then  sat  down  again  while 
I  struggled  up  and  thrust  my  nose  out  at  the  same  place, 
and  this  we  kept  on  doing  every  now  and  then — "  and  next 
day  he's  cut  down  like  the  grass,  and  the  places  which 
knowed  him  then  knows  him  no  more  forever,  as  Scriptur' 
says.  Yes-'ndeedy,  it's  awful  solemn  and  cur'us ;  but  we've 
all  got  to  go,  one  time  or  another ;  they  ain't  no  getting 
around  it." 

There  was  another  long  pause  ;  then — 

"  What  did  he  die  of  ?" 

I  said  I  didn't  know. 

"  How  long  has  he  ben  dead  ?" 

It  seemed  judicious  to  enlarge  the  facts  to  fit  the  proba 
bilities  ;  so  I  said, — 

"Two  or  three  days." 

But  it  did  no  good ;  for  Thompson  received  it  with  an 
injured  look  which  plainly  said,  "Two  or  three  years,  you 
mean."  Then  he  went  right  along,  placidly  ignoring  my 
statement,  and  gave  his  views  at  considerable  length  upon 
the  unwisdom  of  putting  off  burials  too  long.  Then  he 
lounged  off  toward  the  box,  stood  a  moment,  then  came 
back  on  a  sharp  trot  and  visited  the  broken  pane,  observ 
ing— 

"  'Twould  'a'  ben  a  dum  sight  better,  all  around,  if  they'd 
started  him  along  last  summer." 

Thompson  sat  down  and  buried  his  face  in  his  red  silk 
handkerchief,  and  began  to  slowly  sway  and  rock  his  body 
like  one  who  is  doing  his  best  to  endure  the  almost  un 
endurable.  By  this  time  the  fragrance  —  if  you  may  call 
it  fragrance  —  was  just  about  suffocating,  as  near  as  you 
can  come  at  it.  Thompson's  face  was  turning  gray;  I 
knew  mine  hadn't  any  color  left  in  it.  By-and-by  Thomp- 


272 

son  rested  his  forehead  in  his  left  hand,  with  his  elbow  on 
his  knee,  and  sort  of  waved  his  red  handkerchief  toward 
the  box  with  his  other  hand,  and  said — 

"  I've  carried  a  many  a  one  of  'em  —  some  of  'em  consider 
able  overdue,  too  —  but,  lordy,  he  just  lays  over  'em  all ! — 
and  does  it  easy.  Cap,  they  was  heliotrope  to  him  /" 

This  recognition  of  my  poor  friend  gratified  me,  in  spite 
of  the  sad  circumstances,  because  it  had  so  much  the  sound 
of  a  compliment. 

Pretty  soon  it  was  plain  that  something  had  got  to  be 
done.  I  suggested  cigars.  Thompson  thought  it  was  a 
good  idea.  He  said, — 

"  Likely  it  '11  modify  him  some." 

We  puffed  gingerly  along  for  a  while,  and  tried  hard  to 
imagine  that  things  were  improved.  But  it  wasn't  any  use. 
Before  very  long,  and  without  any  consultation,  both  cigars 
were  quietly  dropped  from  our  nerveless  fingers  at  the 
same  moment.  Thompson  said,  with  a  sigh — 

"  No,  Cap,  it  don't  modify  him  worth  a  cent.  Fact  is,  it 
makes  him  worse,  becuz  it  appears  to  stir  up  his  ambition. 
What  do  you  reckon  we  better  do,  now  ?" 

I  was  not  able  to  suggest  anything ;  indeed,  I  had  to  be 
swallowing  and  swallowing,  all  the  time,  and  did  not  like 
to  trust  myself  to  speak.  Thompson  fell  to  maundering,  in 
a  desultory  and  low-spirited  way,  about  the  miserable  ex 
periences  of  this  night ;  and  he  got  to  referring  to  my  poor 
friend  by  various  titles  —  sometimes  military  ones,  some 
times  civil  ones ;  and  I  noticed  that  as  fast  as  my  poor 
friend's  effectiveness  grew,  Thompson  promoted  him  ac 
cordingly — gave  him  a  bigger  title.  Finally  he  said — 

"  I've  got  an  idea.  Suppos'n'  we  buckle  down  to  it 
and  give  the  Colonel  a  bit  of  a  shove  towards  t'other  end 
of  the  car?  —  about  ten  foot,  say.  He  wouldn't  have  sq 
much  influence,  then,  don't  you  reckon?" 


273 

I  said  it  was  a  good  scheme.  So  we  took  in  a  gooA 
fresh  breath  at  the  broken  pane,  calculating  to  hold  it 
till  we  got  through;  then  we  went  there  and  bent  down 
over  that  deadly  cheese  and  took  a  grip  on  the  box. 
Thompson  nodded  "  All  ready,"  and  then  we  threw  our 
selves  forward  with  all  our  might ;  but  Thompson  slipped, 
and  slumped  down  with  his  nose  on  the  cheese,  and  his 
breath  got  loose.  He  gagged  and  gasped,  and  floundered 
up  and  made  a  break  for  the  door,  pawing  the  air  and  say 
ing,  hoarsely,  "  Don't  hender  me  ! — gimme  the  road  !  I'm 
a-dying;  gimme  the  road !"  Out  on  the  cold  platform  I  sat 
down  and  held  his  head  awhile,  and  he  revived.  Presently 
he  said — 

"  Do  you  reckon  we  started  the  Gen'rul  any  ?" 

I  said  no ;  we  hadn't  budged  him. 

"  Well,  then,  that  idea's  up  the  flume.  We  got  to  think 
up  something  else.  He's  suited  wher'  he  is,  I  reckon, 
and  if  that's  the  way  he  feels  about  it,  and  has  made  up 
his  mind  that  he  don't  wish  to  be  disturbed,  you  bet  you 
he's  a-going  to  have  his  own  way  in  the  business.  Yes, 
better  leave  him  right  wher'  he  is,  long  as  he  wants  it  so ; 
becuz  he  holds  all  the  trumps,  don't  you  know,  and  so  it 
stands  to  reason  that  the  man  that  lays  out  to  alter  his  plans 
for  him  is  going  to  get  left." 

But  we  couldn't  stay  out  there  in  that  mad  storm ;  we 
should  have  frozen  to  death.  So  we  went  in  again  and  shut 
the  door,  and  began  to  suffer  once  more  and  take  turns  at 
the  break  in  the  window.  By-and-by,  as  we  were  starting 
away  from  a  station  where  we  had  stopped  a  moment 
Thompson  pranced  in  cheerily,  and  exclaimed  — 

"  We're  all  right,  now !  1  reckon  we've  got  the  Commo 
dore  this  time.  I  judge  I've  got  the  stuff  here  that  '11  take 
the  tuck  out  of  him." 

It  was  carbolic  acid.     He  had  a  carboy  of  it.     He  sprin- 


274 

kled  it  all  around  everywhere ;  in  fact  he  drenched  every* 
thing  with  it,  rifle-box,  cheese,  and  all.  Then  we  sat  down, 
feeling  pretty  hopeful.  But  it  wasn't  for  long.  You  see 
the  two  perfumes  began  to  mix,  and  then — well,  pretty  soon 
we  made  a  break  for  the  door ;  and  out  there  Thompson 
swabbed  his  face  with  his  bandanna  and  said  in  a  kind  of 
disheartened  way — 

"  It  ain't  no  use.  We  can't  buck  agin  him.  He  just  util 
izes  everything  we  put  up  to  modify  him  with,  and  gives  it 
his  own  flavor  and  plays  it  back  on  us.  Why,  Cap,  don't 
you  know,  it's  as  much  as  a  hundred  times  worse  in  there 
now  than  it  was  when  he  first  got  a-going.  I  never  did  see 
one  of  'em  warm  up  to  his  work  so,  and  take  such  a  dumna- 
tion  interest  in  it.  No,  sir,  I  never  did,  as  long  as  I've  ben 
on  the  road ;  and  I've  carried  a  many  a  one  of  'em,  as  I  was 
telling  you." 

We  went  in  again,  after  we  were  frozen  pretty  stiff ;  but 
my,  we  couldn't  stay  in,  now.  So  we  just  waltzed  back  and 
forth,  freezing,  and  thawing,  and  stifling,  by  turns.  In  about 
an  hour  we  stopped  at  another  station  ;  and  as  we  left  it 
Thompson  came  in  with  a  bag,  and  said — 

"Cap,  I'm  a-going  to  chance  him  once  more  —  just  this 
once ;  and  if  we  don't  fetch  him  this  time,  the  thing  for  us 
to  do  is  to  just  throw  up  the  sponge  and  withdraw  from  the 
canvass.  That's  the  way  /  put  it  up." 

He  had  brought  a  lot  of  chicken  feathers,  and  dried  ap 
ples,  and  leaf  tobacco,  and  rags,  and  old  shoes,  and  sulphur, 
and  assafcetida,  and  one  thing  or  another ;  and  he  piled  them 
on  a  breadth  of  sheet-iron  in  the  middle  of  the  floor,  and 
set  fire  to  them.  When  they  got  well  started,  I  couldn't  see, 
myself,  how  even  the  corpse  could  stand  it.  All  that  went 
before  was  just  simply  poetry  to  that  smell  —  but  mind  you, 
the  original  smell  stood  up  out  of  it  just  as  sublime  as  ever 
— fact  is,  these  other  smells  just  seemed  to  give  it  a  better 


275 

hold ;  and  my,  how  rich  it  was !  I  didn't  make  these  re 
flections  there — there  wasn't  time — made  them  on  the  plat 
form.  And  breaking  for  the  platform,  Thompson  got  suffo 
cated  and  fell ;  and  before  I  got  him  dragged  out,  which  I 
did  by  the  collar,  I  was  mighty  near  gone  myself.  When 
we  revived,  Thompson  said  dejectedly — 

"  We  got  to  stay  out  here,  Cap.  We  got  to  do  it.  They 
ain't  no  other  way.  The  Governor  wants  to  travel  alone,  and 
he's  fixed  so  he  can  outvote  us." 

And  presently  he  added — • 

"  And  don't  you  know,  we're  fisoned.  It's  our  last  trip, 
you  can  make  up  your  mind  to  it.  Typhoid  fever  is  what's 
going  to  come  of  this.  I  feel  it  a-coming  right  now.  Yes, 
sir,  we're  elected,  just  as  sure  as  you're  born." 

We  were  taken  from  the  platform  an  hour  later,  frozen 
and  insensible,  at  the  next  station,  and  I  went  straight  off 
into  a  virulent  fever,  and  never  knew  anything  again  for  three 
weeks.  I  found  out,  then,  that  I  had  spent  that  awful  night 
with  a  harmless  box  of  rifles  and  a  lot  of  innocent  cheese; 
but  the  news  was  too  late  to  save  me;  imagination  had  done 
its  work,  and  my  health  was  permanently  shattered  ;  neither 
Bermuda  nor  any  other  land  can  ever  bring  it  back  to  me. 
This  is  my  last  trip ;  I  am  on  my  way  home  to  die. 

We  made  the  run  home  to  New  York  quarantine  in  three 
days  and  five  hours,  and  could  have  gone  right  along  up  to 
the  city  if  we  had  had  a  health  permit.  But  health  permits  are 
not  granted  after  seven  in  the  evening,  partly  because  a  ship 
cannot  be  inspected  and  overhauled  with  exhaustive  thor 
oughness  except  in  daylight,  and  partly  because  health  offi 
cers  are  liable  to  catch  cold  if  they  expose  themselves  to  the 
night  air.  Still,  you  can  buy  a  permit  after  hours  for  five 
dollars  extra,  and  the  officer  will  do  the  inspecting  next 
week.  Our  ship  and  passengers  lay  under  expense  and  in 


276 

humiliating  captivity  all  night,  under  the  very  nose  of  the 
little  official  reptile  who  is  supposed  to  protect  New  York 
from  pestilence  by  his  vigilant  "  inspections."  This  impos 
ing  rigor  gave  everybody  a  solemn  and  awful  idea  of  the 
beneficent  watchfulness  of  our  government,  and  there  were 
some  who  wondered  if  anything  finer  could  be  found  in 
other  countries. 

In  the  morning  we  were  all  a -tiptoe  to  witness  the  in 
tricate  ceremony  of  inspecting  the  ship.  But  it  was  a  dis 
appointing  thing.  The  health  officer's  tug  ranged  alongside 
for  a  moment,  our  purser  handed  the  lawful  three -dollar 
permit  fee  to  the  health  officer's  bootblack,  who  passed  us 
a  folded  paper  in  a  forked  stick,  and  away  we  went.  The 
entire  "  inspection  "  did  not  occupy  thirteen  seconds. 

The  health  officer's  place  is  worth  a  hundred  thousand 
dollars  a  year  to  him.  His  system  of  inspection  is  perfect, 
and  therefore  cannot  be  improved  on;  but  it  seems  to  me 
that  his  system  of  collecting  his  fees  might  be  amended. 
For  a  great  ship  to  lie  idle  all  night  is  a  most  costly  loss  of 
time ;  for  her  passengers  to  have  to  do  the  same  thing 
works  to  them  the  same  damage,  with  the  addition  of  an 
amount  of  exasperation  and  bitterness  of  soul  that  the 
spectacle  of  that  health  officer's  ashes  on  a  shovel  could 
hardly  sweeten.  Now  why  would  it  not  be  better  and  sim 
pler  to  let  the  ships  pass  in  unmolested,  and  the  fees  and 
permits  be  exchanged  once  a  year  by  post  ? 


THE  FACTS  CONCERNING  THE  RECENT 

CARNIVAL  OF   CRIME   IN 

CONNECTICUT 


I  WAS  feeling  blithe,  almost  jocund.  I  put  a  match  to 
my  cigar,  and  just  then  the  morning's  mail  was  handed  in. 
The  first  superscription  I  glanced  at  was  in  a  handwriting 
that  sent  a  thrill  of  pleasure  through  and  through  me.  It 
was  Aunt  Mary's ;  and  she  was  the  person  I  loved  and 
honored  most  in  all  the  world,  outside  of  my  own  house 
hold.  She  had  been  my  boyhood's  idol ;  maturity,  which 
is  fatal  to  so  many  enchantments,  had  not  been  able  to  dis 
lodge  her  from  her  pedestal ;  no,  it  had  only  justified  her 
right  to  be  there,  and  placed  her  dethronement  permanent 
ly  among  the  impossibilities.  To  show  how  strong  her  in 
fluence  over  me  was,  I  will  observe  that  long  after  every 
body  else's  "  db-stop-smoking  "  had  ceased  to  affect  me  in 
the  slightest  degree,  Aunt  Mary  could  still  stir  my  torpid 
conscience  into  faint  signs  of  life  when  she  touched  upon 
the  matter.  But  all  things  have  their  limit,  in  this  world. 
A  happy  day  came  at  last,  when  even  Aunt  Mary's  words 
could  no  longer  move  me.  I  was  not  merely  glad  to  see 
that  day  arrive  ;  I  was  more  than  glad — I  was  grateful ;  for 
when  its  sun  had  set,  the  one  alloy  that  was  able  to  mar  my 
enjoyment  of  my  aunt's  society  was  gone.  The  remainder 


of  her  stay  with  us  that  winter  was  in  every  way  a  delight. 
Of  course  she  pleaded  with  me  just  as  earnestly  as  ever, 
after  that  blessed  day,  to  quit  my  pernicious  habit,  but  to 
no  purpose  whatever ;  the  moment  she  opened  the  subject 
I  at  once  became  calmly,  peacefully,  contentedly  indifferent 
— absolutely,  adamantinely  indifferent.  Consequently  the 
closing  weeks  of  that  memorable  visit  melted  away  as  pleas 
antly  as  a  dream,  they  were  so  freighted,  for  me,  with  tran 
quil  satisfaction.  I  could  not  have  enjoyed  my  pet  vice 
more  if  my  gentle  tormentor  had  been  a  smoker  herself, 
and  an  advocate  of  the  practice.  Well,  the  sight  of  her 
handwriting  reminded  me  that  I  was  getting  very  hungry  to 
see  her  again.  I  easily  guessed  what  I  should  find  in  her 
letter.  I  opened  it.  Good !  just  as  I  expected  ;  she  was 
coming !  Coming  this  very  day,  too,  and  by  the  morning 
train  ;  I  might  expect  her  any  moment. 

I  said  to  myself,  "  I  am  thoroughly  happy  and  content, 
now.  If  my  most  pitiless  enemy  could  appear  before  me 
at  this  moment,  I  would  freely  right  any  wrong  I  may  have 
done  him." 

Straightway  the  door  opened,  and  a  shrivelled,  shabby 
dwarf  entered.  He  was  not  more  than  two  feet  high. 
He  seemed  to  be  about  forty  years  old.  Every  feature 
and  every  inch  of  him  was  a  trifle  out  of  shape  ;  and  so, 
while  one  could  not  put  his  finger  upon  any  particular  part 
and  say,  "  This  is  a  conspicuous  deformity,"  the  spectator 
perceived  that  this  little  person  was  a  deformity  as  a  whole 
— a  vague,  general,  evenly  blended,  nicely  adjusted  de 
formity.  There  was  a  fox-like  cunning  in  the  face  and  the 
sharp  little  eyes,  and  also  alertness  and  malice.  And  yet, 
this  vile  bit  of  human  rubbish  seemed  to  bear  a  sort  of  re 
mote  and  ill-defined  resemblance  to  me !  It  was  dully  per 
ceptible  in  the  mean  form,  the  countenance,  and  even  the 
clothes,  gestures,  manner,  and  attitudes  of  the  creature. 


279 

He  was  a  far-fetched,  dim  suggestion  of  a  burlesque  upon 
me,  a  caricature  of  me  in  little.  One  thing  about  him 
struck  me  forcibly,  and  most  unpleasantly :  he  was  covered 
all  over  with  a  fuzzy,  greenish  mould,  such  as  one  some 
times  sees  upon  mildewed  bread.  The  sight  of  it  was  nau 
seating. 

He  stepped  along  with  a  chipper  air,  and  flung  himself  into 
a  doll's  chair  in  a  very  free-and-easy  way,  without  waiting 
to  be  asked.  He  tossed  his  hat  into  the  waste-basket.  He 
picked  up  my  old  chalk  pipe  from  the  floor,  gave  the  stem 
a  wipe  or  two  on  his  knee,  filled  the  bowl  from  the  tobacco- 
box  at  his  side,  and  said  to  me  in  a  tone  of  pert  command — 

"  Gimme  a  match !" 

I  blushed  to  the  roots  of  my  hair;  partly  with  indignation, 
but  mainly  because  it  somehow  seemed  to  me  that  this 
whole  performance  was  very  like  an  exaggeration  of  conduct 
which  I  myself  had  sometimes  been  guilty  of  in  my  inter 
course  with  familiar  friends  —  but  never,  never  with  strangers, 
I  observed  to  myself.  I  wanted  to  kick  the  pygmy  into  the 
fire,  but  some  incomprehensible  sense  of  being  legally  and 
legitimately  under  his  authority  forced  me  to  obey  his 
order.  He  applied  the  match  to  the  pipe,  took  a  contem 
plative  whiff  or  two,  and  remarked,  in  an  irritatingly  familiar 
way — v 

"  Seems  to  me  it's  devilish  odd  weather  for  this  time  of 
year." 

I  flushed  again,  and  in  anger  and  humiliation  as  before  ; 
for  the  language  was  hardly  an  exaggeration  of  some  that  I 
have  uttered  in  my  day,  and  moreover  was  delivered  in  a 
tone  of  voice  and  with  an  exasperating  drawl  that  had  the 
seeming  of  a  deliberate  travesty  of  my  style.  Now  there  is 
nothing  I  am  quite  so  sensitive  about  as  a  mocking  imita 
tion  of  my  drawling  infirmity  of  speech.  I  spoke  up  sharply 
and  said — 


280 


"  Look  here,  you  miserable  ash  -  cat !  you  will  have  to 
give  a  little  more  attention  to  your  manners,  or  I  will  throw 
you  out  of  the  window!" 

The  manikin  smiled  a  smile  of  malicious  content  and  se 
curity,  puffed  a  whiff  of  smoke  contemptuously  toward  me, 
and  said,  with  a  still  more  elaborate  drawl — 

"Come  —  go  gently,  now;  don't  put  on  too  many  airs 
with  your  betters." 

This  cool  snub  rasped  me  all  over,  but  it  seemed  to  sub 
jugate  me,  too,  for  a  moment.  The  pygmy  contemplated 
me  awhile  with  his  weasel  eyes,  and  then  said,  in  a  pecul 
iarly  sneering  way — 

"  You  turned  a  tramp  away  from  your  door  this  morn 
ing." 

I  said  crustily — 

"  Perhaps  I  did,  perhaps  I  didn't.     How  do  you  know  ?" 

"  Well,  I  know.     It  isn't  any  matter  how  I  know." 

"  Very  well.  Suppose  I  did  turn  a  tramp  away  from  the 
door — what  of  it  ?" 

"Oh,  nothing;  nothing  in  particular.  Only  you  lied  to 
him." 

"I  didn't!    That  is,  I—" 

"  Yes,  but  you  did  ;  you  lied  to  him." 

I  felt  a  guilty  pang — in  truth  I  had  felt  it  forty  times 
before  that  tramp  had  travelled  a  block  from  my  door — 
but  still  I  resolved  to  make  a  show  of  feeling  slandered  ; 
so  I  said — 

"  This  is  a  baseless  impertinence.    I  said  to  the  tramp — " 

"  There — wait.  You  were  about  to  lie  again.  /  know 
what  you  said  to  him.  You  said  the  cook  was  gone  down 
town  and  there  was  nothing  left  from  breakfast.  Two  lies. 
You  knew  the  cook  was  behind  the  door,  and  plenty  of 
provisions  behind  her." 

This  astonishing  accuracy  silenced  me ;  and  it  filled  me 


28 1 


with  wondering  speculations,  too,  as  to  how  this  cub  could 
have  got  his  information.  Of  course  he  could  have  culled 
the  conversation  from  the  tramp,  but  by  what  sort  of  magic 
had  he  contrived  to  find  out  about  the  concealed  cook  ? 
Now  the  dwarf  spoke  again  : — 

"  It  was  rather  pitiful,  rather  small,  in  you  to  refuse  to 
read  that  poor  young  woman's  manuscript  the  other  day, 
and  give  her  an  opinion  as  to  its  literary  value ;  and  she 
had  come  so  far,  too,  and  so  hopefully.  Now  wasn't  it  ?" 

I  felt  like  a  cur !  And  I  had  felt  so  every  time  the  thing 
had  recurred  to  my  mind,  I  may  as  well  confess.  I  flushed 
hotly  and  said — 

"  Look  here,  have  you  nothing  better  to  do  than  prowl 
around  prying  into  other  people's  business  ?  Did  that  girl 
tell  you  that  ?" 

"  Never  mind  whether  she  did  or  not.  The  main  thing 
is,  you  did  that  contemptible  thing.  And  you  felt  ashamed 
of  it  afterwards.  Aha  !  you  feel  ashamed  of  it  now  f" 

This  with  a  sort  of  devilish  glee.  With  fiery  earnestness 
I  responded — 

"  I  told  that 'girl,  in  the  kindest,  gentlest  way,  that  I  could 
not  consent  to  deliver  judgment  upon  any  one's  manuscript, 
because  an  individual's  verdict  was  worthless.  It  might 
underrate  a  work  of  high  merit  and  lose  it  to  the  world,  or 
it  might  overrate  a  trashy  production  and  so  open  the  way 
for  its  infliction  upon  the  world.  I  said  that  the  great  pub 
lic  was  the  only  tribunal  competent  to  sit  in  judgment  upon 
a  literary  effort,  and  therefore  it  must  be  best  to  lay  it  before 
that  tribunal  in  the  outset,  since  in  the  end  it  must  stand  or 
fall  by  that  mighty  court's  decision  anyway." 

"  Yes,  you  said  all  that.  So  you  did,  you  juggling,  small- 
souled  shuffler  !  And  yet  when  the  happy  hopefulness  faded 
out  of  that  poor  girl's  face,  when  you  saw  her  furtively  slip 
beneath  her  shawl  the  scroll  she  had  so  patiently  and  hon- 


282 


estly  scribbled  at  —  so  ashamed  of  her  darling  now,  so  proud 
of  it  before  —  when  you  saw  the  gladness  go  out  of  her  eyes 
and  the  tears  come  there,  when  she  crept  away  so  humbly 
who  had  come  so — " 

"  Oh,  peace  !  peace  !  peace  !  Blister  your  merciless 
tongue,  haven't  all  these  thoughts  tortured  me  enough  with 
out  your  coming  here  to  fetch  them  back  again  !" 

Remorse  !  remorse  !  It  seemed  to  me  that  it  would  eat 
the  very  heart  out  of  me  !  And  yet  that  small  fiend  only  sat 
there  leering  at  me  with  joy  and  contempt,  and  placidly 
chuckling.  Presently  he  began  to  speak  again.  Every  sen 
tence  was  an  accusation,  and  every  accusation  a  truth.  Ev 
ery  clause  was  freighted  with  sarcasm  and  derision,  every 
slow-dropping  word  burned  like  vitriol.  The  dwarf  remind 
ed  me  of  times  when  I  had  flown  at  my  children  in  anger 
and  punished  them  for  faults  which  a  little  inquiry  would 
have  taught  me  that  others,  and  not  they,  had  committed. 
He  reminded  me  of  how  I  had  disloyally  allowed  old  friends 
to  be  traduced  in  my  hearing,  and  been  too  craven  to  utter 
a  word  in  their  defence.  He  reminded  me  of  many  dishon 
est  things  which  I  had  done  ;  of  many  which  I  had  procured 
to  be  done  by  children  and  other  irresponsible  persons ;  of 
some  which  I  had  planned,  thought  upon,  and  longed  to 
do,  and  been  kept  from  the  performance  by  fear  of  conse 
quences  only.  With  exquisite  cruelty  he  recalled  to  my 
mind,  item  by  item,  wrongs  and  unkindnesses  I  had  inflict 
ed  and  humiliations  I  had  put  upon  friends  since  dead,  "who 
died  thinking  of  those  injuries,  maybe,  and  grieving  over 
them,"  he  added,  by  way  of  poison  to  the  stab. 

"  For  instance,"  said  he,  "  take  the  case  of  your  younger 
brother,  when  you  two  were  boys  together,  many  a  long  year 
ago.  He  always  lovingly  trusted  in  you  with  a  fidelity  that 
your  manifold  treacheries  were  not  able  to  shake.  He  fol 
lowed  you  about  like  a  dog,  content  to  suffer  wrong  and 


abuse  if  he  might  only  be  with  you;  patient  under  these  in 
juries  so  long  as  it  was  your  hand  that  inflicted  them.  The 
latest  picture  you  have  of  him  in  health  and  strength  must 
be  such  a  comfort  to  you  !  You  pledged  your  honor  that  if 
he  would  let  you  blindfold  him  no  harm  should  come  to  him; 
and  then,  giggling  and  choking  over  the  rare  fun  of  the  joke, 
you  led  him  to  a  brook  thinly  glazed  with  ice,  and  pushed 
him  in  ;  and  how  you  did  laugh  !  Man,  you  will  never  for 
get  the  gentle,  reproachful  look  he  gave  you  as  he  struggled 
shivering  out,  if  you  live  a  thousand  years  !  Oho  !  you  see 
it  now,  you  see  it  now  /" 

"Beast,  I  have  seen  it  a  million  times,  and  shall  see  it 
a  million  more  !  and  may  you  rot  away  piecemeal,  and  surfer 
till  doomsday  what  I  suffer  now,  for  bringing  it  back  to  me 
again  !" 

The  dwarf  chuckled  contentedly,  and  went  on  with  his 
accusing  history  of  my  career.  I  dropped  into  a  moody, 
vengeful  state,  and  suffered  in  silence  under  the  merciless 
lash.  At  last  this  remark  of  his  gave  me  a  sudden  rouse  : — 

"  Two  months  ago,  on  a  Tuesday,  you  woke  up,  away  in 
the  night,  and  fell  to  thinking,  with  shame,  about  a  pecul 
iarly  mean  and  pitiful  act  of  yours  toward  a  poor  ignorant 
Indian  in  the  wilds  of  the  Rocky  Mountains  in  the  winter 
of  eighteen  hundred  and — " 

"  Stop  a  moment,  devil !  Stop !  Do  you  mean  to  tell 
me  that  even  my  very  thoughts  are  not  hidden  from  you  ?" 

"  It  seems  to  look  like  that.  Didn't  you  think  the 
thoughts  I  have  just  mentioned  ?" 

"  If  I  didn't,  I  wish  I  may  never  breathe  again  !  Look 
here,  friend — look  me  in  the  eye.  Who  are  you  ?" 

"  Well,  who  do  you  think  ?" 

"  I  think  you  are  Satan  himself.  I  think  you  are  the 
devil." 

"  No." 


284 

"  No  ?     Then  who  can  you  be  ?" 

"  Would  you  really  like  to  know  ?" 

"Indeed  I  would." 

"  Well,  I  am  your  Conscience  /" 

In  an  instant  I  was  in  a  blaze  of  joy  and  exultation.  I 
sprang  at  the  creature,  roaring — 

"  Curse  you,  I  have  wished  a  hundred  million  times  that 
you  were  tangible,  and  that  I  could  get  my  hands  on  your 
throat  once  !  Oh,  but  I  will  wreak  a  deadly  vengeance  on — " 

Folly !  Lightning  does  not  move  more  quickly  than  my 
Conscience  did  !  He  darted  aloft  so  suddenly  that  in  the 
moment  my  ringers  clutched  the  empty  air  he  was  already 
perched  on  the  top  of  the  high  bookcase,  with  his  thumb 
at  his  nose  in  token  of  derision.  I  flung  the  poker  at 
him,  and  missed.  I  fired  the  boot-jack.  In  a  blind  rage  I 
flew  from  place  to  place,  and  snatched  and  hurled  any  mis 
sile  that  came  handy;  the  storm  of  books,  inkstands,  and 
chunks  of  coal  gloomed  the  air  and  beat  about  the  mani 
kin's  perch  relentlessly,  but  all  to  no  purpose ;  the  nimble 
figure  dodged  every  shot;  and  not  only  that,  but  burst  into 
a  cackle  of  sarcastic  and  triumphant  laughter  as  I  sat  down 
exhausted.  While  I  puffed  and  gasped  with  fatigue  and  ex 
citement,  my  Conscience  talked  to  this  effect  :— 

"  My  good  slave,  you  are  curiously  witless — no,  I  mean 
characteristically  so.  In  truth,  you  are  always  consistent, 
always  yourself,  always  an  ass.  Otherwise  it  must  have 
occurred  to  you  that  if  you  attempted  this  murder  with  a 
sad  heart  and  a  heavy  conscience,  I  would  droop  under 
the  burdening  influence  instantly.  Fool,  I  should  have 
weighed  a  ton,  and  could  not  have  budged  from  the  floor ; 
but  instead,  you  are  so  cheerfully  anxious  to  kill  me  that 
your  conscience  is  as  light  as  a  feather  ;  hence  I  am  away 
up  here  out  of  your  reach.  I  can  almost  respect  a  mere 
ordinary  sort  of  fool ;  but  you — pah  !M 


285 

I  would  have  given  anything,  then,  to  be  heavy-hearted, 
so  that  I  could  get  this  person  down  from  there  and  take 
his  life,  but  I  could  no  more  be  heavy-hearted  over  such  a 
desire  than  I  could  have  sorrowed  over  its  accomplishment. 
So  I  could  only  look  longingly  up  at  my  master,  and  rave 
at  the  ill-luck  that  denied  me  a  heavy  conscience  the  one 
only  time  that  I  had  ever  wanted  such  a  thing  in  my  life. 
By-and-by  I  got  to  musing  over  the  hour's  strange  ad 
venture,  and  of  course  my  human  curiosity  began  to  work. 
I  set  myself  to  framing  in  my  mind  some  questions  for  this 
fiend  to  answer.  Just  then  one  of  my  boys  entered,  leaving 
the  door  open  behind  him,  and  exclaimed, — 

"  My !  what  has  been  going  on,  here  ?  The  bookcase  is 
all  one  riddle  of — " 

I  sprang  up  in  consternation,  and  shouted — 

"Out  of  this!  Hurry!  Jump!  Fly!  Shut  the  door! 
Quick,  or  my  Conscience  will  get  away!" 

The  door  slammed  to,  and  I  locked  it.  I  glanced  up  and 
was  grateful,  to  the  bottom  of  my  heart,  to  see  that  my 
owner  was  still  my  prisoner.  I  said — 

"  Hang  you,  I  might  have  lost  you !  Children  are  the 
heedlessest  creatures.  But  look  here,  friend,  the  boy  did 
not  seem  to  notice  you  at  all;  how  is  that?" 

"  For  a  very  good  reason.    I  am  invisible  to  all  but  you." 

I  made  mental  note  of  that  piece  of  information  with  a 
good  deal  of  satisfaction.  I  could  kill  this  miscreant  now, 
if  I  got  a  chance,  and  no  one  would  know  it.  But  this  very 
reflection  made  me  so  light-hearted  that  my  Conscience 
could  hardly  keep  his  seat,  but  was  like  to  float  aloft  tow 
ard  the  ceiling  like  a  toy  balloon.  I  said,  presently — 

"  Come,  my  Conscience,  let  us  be  friendly.  Let  us  fly  a 
flag  of  truce  for  a  while.  I  am  suffering  to  ask  you  some 
questions." 

"  Very  well.     Begin." 

19  T8 


286 


"Well,  then,  in  the  first  place,  why  were  you  never  visi 
ble  to  me  before  ?" 

"  Because  you  never  asked  to  see  me  before;  that  is,  you 
never  asked  in  the  right  spirit  and  the  proper  form  before. 
You  were  just  in  the  right  spirit  this  time,  and  when  you 
called  for  your  most  pitiless  enemy  I  was  that  person  by  a 
very  large  majority,  though  you  did  not  suspect  it." 

"  Well,  did  that  remark  of  mine  turn  you  into  flesh  and 
blood  ?" 

"  No.  It  only  made  me  visible  to  you.  I  am  unsubstan 
tial,  just  as  other  spirits  are." 

This  remark  prodded  me  with  a  sharp  misgiving.  If  he 
was  unsubstantial,  how  was  I  going  to  kill  him  ?  But  I  dis 
sembled,  and  said  persuasively — 

"  Conscience,  it  isn't  sociable  of  you  to  keep  at  such  a 
distance.  Come  down  and  take  another  smoke." 

This  was  answered  with  a  look  that  was  full  of  derision, 
and  with  this  observation  added — 

"  Come  where  you  can  get  at  me  and  kill  me  ?  The  in 
vitation  is  declined  with  thanks." 

"  All  right,"  said  I  to  myself ;  "  so  it  seems  a  spirit  can 
be  killed,  after  all ;  there  will  be  one  spirit  lacking  in  this 
world,  presently,  or  I  lose  my  guess."  Then  I  said  aloud — 

«  Friend—" 

"  There ;  wait  a  bit.  I  am  not  your  friend,  I  am  your 
enemy ;  I  am  not  your  equal,  I  am  your  master.  Call  me 
1  my  lord,'  if  you  please.  You  are  too  familiar." 

"  I  don't  like  such  titles.  I  am  willing  to  call  you  sir. 
That  is  as  far  as—'' 

"  We  will  have  no  argument  about  this.  Just  obey;  that 
is  all.  Go  on  with  your  chatter." 

"  Very  well,  my  lord — since  nothing  but  my  lord  will  suit 
you — I  was  going  to  ask  you  how  long  you  will  be  visible 
tome?" 


287 


"  Always  1" 

I  broke  out  with  strong  indignation  :  "  This  is  simply  an 
outrage.  That  is  what  I  think  of  it.  You  have  dogged, 
and  dogged,  and  dogged  me,  all  the  days  of  my  life,  invisi 
ble.  That  was  misery  enough  ;  now  to  have  such  a  looking 
thing  as  you  tagging  after  me  like  another  shadow  all  the 
rest  of  my  days  is  an  intolerable  prospect.  You  have  my 
opinion,  my  lord ;  make  the  most  of  it." 

"  My  lad,  there  was  never  so  pleased  a  conscience  in  this 
world  as  I  was  when  you  made  me  visible.  It  gives  me  an 
inconceivable  advantage.  Now,  I  can  look  you  straight  in 
the  eye,  and  call  you  names,  and  leer  at  you,  jeer  at  you, 
sneer  at  you  ;  and  you  know  .what  eloquence  there  is  in  vis 
ible  gesture  and  expression,  more  especially  when  the  effect 
is  heightened  by  audible  speech.  I  shall  always  address 
you  henceforth  in  your  o-w-n  s-n-i-v-e-1-l-in-g  d-r-a-w-1  — 
baby!" 

I  let  fly  with  the  coal-hod.  No  result.  My  lord  said — 
"  Come,  come  !  Remember  the  flag  of  truce  !" 
"  Ah,  I  forgot  that.  I  will  try  to  be  civil ;  and  you  try  it, 
too,  for  a  novelty.  The  idea  of  a  civil  conscience  !  It  is  a 
good  joke;  an  excellent  joke.  All  the  consciences  /have 
ever  heard  of  were  nagging,  badgering,  fault-finding,  exe 
crable  savages !  Yes ;  and  always  in  a  sweat  about  some 
poor  little  insignificant  trifle  or  other — destruction  catch  the 
lot  of  them,  /  say !  I  would  trade  mine  for  the  small-pox 
and  seven  kinds  of  consumption,  and  be  glad  of  the  chance. 
Now  tell  me,  why  is  it  that  a  conscience  can't  haul  a  man 
over  the  coals  once,  for  an  offence,  and  then  let  him  alone  ? 
Why  is  it  that  it  wants  to  keep  on  pegging  at  him,  day  and 
night  and  night  and  day,  week  in  and  week  out,  forever 
and  ever,  about  the  same  old  thing?  There  is  no  sense  in 
that,  and  no  reason  in  it.  I  think  a  conscience  that  will 
act  like  that  is  meaner  than  the  very  dirt  itself." 


288 


"  Well,  we  like  it ;  that  suffices." 

"  Do  you  do  it  with  the  honest  intent  to  improve  a 
man?" 

That  question  produced  a  sarcastic  smile,  and  this  re- 
ply:- 

"  No,  sir.  Excuse  me.  We  do  it  simply  because  it  is 
1  business.'  It  is  our  trade.  The  purpose  of  it  is  to  im 
prove  the  man,  but  we  are  merely  disinterested  agents.  We 
are  appointed  by  authority,  and  haven't  anything  to  say  in 
the  matter.  We  obey  orders  and  leave  the  consequences 
where  they  belong.  But  I  am  willing  to  admit  this  much : 
we  do  crowd  the  orders  a  trifle  when  we  get  a  chance,  which 
is  most  of  the  time.  We  enjoy  it.  We  are  instructed  to 
remind  a  man  a  few  times  of  an  error ;  and  I  don't  mind 
acknowledging  that  we  try  to  give  pretty  good  measure. 
And  when  we  get  hold  of  a  man  of  a  peculiarly  sensitive 
nature,  oh,  but  we  do  haze  him  !  I  have  known  consciences 
to  come  all  the  way  from  China  and  Russia  to  see  a  person 
of  that  kind  put  through  his  paces,  on  a  special  occasion. 
Why,  I  knew  a  man  of  that  sort  who  had  accidentally  crip 
pled  a  mulatto  baby  ;  the  news  went  abroad,  and  I  wish 
you  may  never  commit  another  sin  if  the  consciences  didn't 
flock  from  all  over  the  earth  to  enjoy  the  fun  and  help  his 
master  exercise  him.  That  man  walked  the  floor  in  torture 
for  forty-eight  hours,  without  eating  or  sleeping,  and  then 
blew  his  brains  out.  The  child  was  perfectly  well  again  in 
three  weeks." 

"  Well,  you  are  a  precious  crew,  not  to  put  it  too  strong. 
I  think  I  begin  to  see,  now,  why  you  have  always  been  a 
trifle  inconsistent  with  me.  In  your  anxiety  to  get  all  the 
juice  you  can  out  of  a  sin,  you  make  a  man  repent  of  it  in 
three  or  four  different  ways.  For  instance,  you  found  fault 
with  me  for  lying  to  that  tramp,  and  I  suffered  over  that. 
But  it  was  only  yesterday  that  I  told  a  tramp  the  square 


truth,  to  wit,  that,  it  being  regarded  as  bad  citizenship  to 
encourage  vagrancy,  I  would  give  him  nothing.  What  did 
you  do  then  ?  Why,  you  made  me  say  to  myself,  '  Ah,  it 
would  have  been  so  much  kinder  and  more  blameless  to 
ease  him  off  with  a  little  white  lie,  and  send  him  away  feel 
ing  that  if  he  could  not  have  bread,  the  gentle  treatment 
was  at  least  something  to  be  grateful  for !'  Well,  I  suffered 
all  day  about  that.  Three  days  before  I  had  fed  a  tramp, 
and  fed  him  freely,  supposing  it  a  virtuous  act.  Straight 
off  you  said,  '  O  false  citizen,  to  have  fed  a  tramp !'  and  I 
suffered  as  usual.  I  gave  a  tramp  work  ;  you.  objected  to 
it — after  the  contract  was  made,  of  course  ;  you  never  speak 
up  beforehand.  Next,  I  refused  a  tramp  work;  you  ob 
jected  to  that.  Next,  I  proposed  to  kill  a  tramp ;  you  kept 
me  awake  all  night,  oozing  remorse  at  every  pore.  Sure  I 
was  going  to  be  right  this  time,  I  sent  the  next  tramp  away 
with  my  benediction  ;  and  I  wish  you  may  live  as  long  as  I 
do,  if  you  didn't  make  me  smart  all  night  again  because  I 
didn't  kill  him.  Is  there  any  way  of  satisfying  that  malig 
nant  invention  which  is  called  a  conscience?" 

"  Ha,  ha  !  this  is  luxury !     Go  on  !" 

"  But  come,  now,  answer  me  that  question.  Is  there  any 
way?" 

"Well,  none  that  I  propose  to  tell  you,  my  son.  Ass! 
I  don't  care  what  act  you  may  turn  your  hand  to,  I  can 
straightway  whisper  a  word  in  your  ear  and  make  you  think 
you  have  committed  a  dreadful  meanness.  It  is  my  busi 
ness — and  my  joy — to  make  you  repent  of  everything  you 
do.  If  I  have  fooled  away  any  opportunities  it  was 
not  intentional;  I  beg  to  assure  you  it  was  not  inten 
tional  !" 

"  Don't  worry ;  you  haven't  missed  a  trick  that  /  know 
of.  I  never  did  a  thing  in  all  my  life,  virtuous  or  other 
wise,  that  I  didn't  repent  of  in  twenty-four  hours.  In 


29Q 

church  last  Sunday  I  listened  to  a  charity  sermon.  My 
first  impulse  was  to  give  three  hundred  and  fifty  dollars ;  I 
repented  of  that  and  reduced  it  a  hundred ;  repented  of 
that  and  reduced  it  another  hundred ;  repented  of  that  and 
reduced  it  another  hundred  ;  repented  of  that  and  reduced 
the  remaining  fifty  to  twenty-five ;  repented  of  that  and 
came  down  to  fifteen  ;  repented  of  that  and  dropped  to  two 
dollars  and  a  half ;  when  the  plate  came  around  at  last,  I 
repented  once  more  and  contributed  ten  cents.  Well,  when 
I  got  home,  I  did  wish  to  goodness  I  had  that  ten  cents 
back  again  !  You  never  did  let  me  get  through  a  charity 
sermon  without  having  something  to  sweat  about." 

"  Oh,  and  I  never  shall,  I  never  shall.  You  can  always 
depend  on  me." 

"  I  think  so.  Many  and  many's  the  restless  night  I've 
wanted  to  take  you  by  the  neck.  If  I  could  only  get  hold 
of  you  now !" 

"  Yes,  no  doubt.  But  I  am  not  an  ass ;  I  am  only  the 
saddle  of  an  ass.  But  go  on,  go  on.  You  entertain  me 
more  than  I  like  to  confess." 

"  I  am  glad  of  that.  (You  will  not  mind  my  lying  a  little, 
to  keep  in  practice.)  Look  here ;  not  to  be  too  personal,  I 
think  you  are  about  the  shabbiest  and  most  contemptible 
little  shrivelled-up  reptile  that  can  be  imagined.  I  am 
grateful  enough  that  you  are  invisible  to  other  people,  for  I 
should  die  with  shame  to  be  seen  with  such  a  mildewed 
monkey  of  a  conscience  as  you  are.  Now  if  you  were  five 
or  six  feet  high,  and — " 

"  Oh,  come  !  who  is  to  blame  ?" 

"7  don't  know." 

"  Why,  you  are  ;  nobody  else." 

"  Confound  you,  I  wasn't  consulted  about  your  personal 
appearance." 

"  I  don't  care,  you  had  a  good  deal  to  do  with  it,  never- 


291 

theless.  When  you  were  eight  or  nine  years  old,  I  was 
seven  feet  high,  and  as  pretty  as  a  picture.1' 

"  I  wish  you  had  died  young !  So  you  have  grown  the 
wrong  way,  have  you  ?" 

"  Some  of  us  grow  one  way  and  some  the  other.  You 
had  a  large  conscience  once ;  if  you've  a  small  conscience 
now,  I  reckon  there  are  reasons  for  it.  However,  both  of 
us  are  to  blame,  you  and  I.  You  see,  you  used  to  be  con 
scientious  about  a  great  many  things  ;  morbidly  so,  I  may 
say.  It  was  a  great  many  years  ago.  You  probably  do  not 
remember  it,  now.  Well,  I  took  a  great  interest  in  my 
work,  and  I  so  enjoyed  the  anguish  which  certain  pet  sins 
of  yours  afflicted  you  with,  that  I  kept  pelting  at  you  until  I 
rather  overdid  the  matter.  You  began  to  rebel.  Of  course 
I  began  to  lose  ground,  then,  and  shrivel  a  little, — diminish 
in  stature,  get  mouldy,  and  grow  deformed.  The  more  I 
weakened,  the  more  stubbornly  you  fastened  on  to  those 
particular  sins  ;  till  at  last  the  places  on  my  person  that 
represent  those  vices  became  as  callous  as  shark  skin. 
Take  smoking,  for  instance.  I  played  that  card  a  little  too 
long,  and  I  lost.  When  people  plead  with  you  at  this  late 
day  to  quit  that  vice,  that  old  callous  place  seems  to  en 
large  and  cover  me  all  over  like  a  shirt  of  mail.  It  ex 
erts  a  mysterious,  smothering  effect ;  and  presently  I,  your 
faithful  hater,  your  devoted  Conscience,  go  sound  asleep ! 
Sound  ?  It  is  no  name  for  it.  I  couldn't  hear  it  thunder 
at  such  a  time.  You  have  some  few  other  vices — perhaps 
eighty,  or  maybe  ninety — that  affect  me  in  much  the  same 
way." 

"  This  is  flattering ;  you  must  be  asleep  a  good  part  of 
your  time." 

"  Yes,  of  late  years.  I  should  be  asleep  all  the  time,  but 
for  the  help  I  get." 

"Who  helps  you?" 


292 

"Other  consciences.  Whenever  a  person  whose  con 
science  I  am  acquainted  with  tries  to  plead  with  you  about 
the  vices  you  are  callous  to,  I  get  my  friend  to  give  his  cli 
ent  a  pang  concerning  some  villany  of  his  own,  and  that 
shuts  off  his  meddling  and  starts  him  off  to  hunt  personal 
consolation.  My  field  of  usefulness  is  about  trimmed  down 
to  tramps,  budding  authoresses,  and  that  line  of  goods,  now ; 
but  don't  you  worry — I'll  harry  you  on  them  while  they  last ! 
Just  you  put  your  trust  in  me." 

"  I  think  I  can.  But  if  you  had  only  been  good  enough 
to  mention  these  facts  some  thirty  years  ago,  I  should  have 
turned  my  particular  attention  to  sin,  and  I  think  that  by 
this  time  I  should  not  only  have  had  you  pretty  permanent 
ly  asleep  on  the  entire  list  of  human  vices,  but  reduced  to 
the  size  of  a  homoeopathic  pill,  at  that.  That  is  about  the 
style  of  conscience  I  am  pining  for.  If  I  only  had  you 
shrunk  down  to  a  homoeopathic  pill,  and  could  get  my 
hands  on  you,  would  I  put  you  in  a  glass  case  for  a  keep 
sake  ?  No,  sir.  I  would  give  you  to  a  yellow  dog  !  That 
is  where  you  ought  to  be — you  and  all  your  tribe.  You  are 
not  fit  to  be  in  society,  in  my  opinion.  Now  another  ques 
tion.  Do  you  know  a  good  many  consciences  in  this  sec 
tion  ?" 

"  Plenty  of  them." 

"  I  would  give  anything  to  see  some  of  them !  Could  you 
bring  them  here  ?  And  would  they  be  visible  to  me  ?" 

"  Certainly  not." 

"  I  suppose  I  ought  to  have  known  that,  without  asking. 
But  no  matter,  you  can  describe  them.  Tell  me  about  my 
neighbor  Thompson's  conscience,  please." 

"Very  well.  I  know  him  intimately;  have  known  him 
many  years.  I  knew  him  when  he  was  eleven  feet  high  and 
of  a  faultless  figure.  But  he  is  very  rusty  and  tough  and 
xnisshapen  now,  and  hardly  ever  interests  himself  about  any- 


293 


thing.  As  to  his  present  size  —  well,  he  sleeps  in  a  cigar 
box." 

"  Likely  enough.  There  are  few  smaller,  meaner  men 
in  this  region  than  Hugh  Thompson.  Do  you  know  Rob 
inson's  conscience  ?" 

"  Yes.  He  is  a  shade  under  four  and  a  half  feet  high  • 
used  to  be  a  blonde ;  is  a  brunette,  now,  but  still  shapely 
and  comely." 

"  Well,  Robinson  is  a  good  fellow.  Do  you  know  Tom 
Smith's  conscience  ?" 

"  I  have  known  him  from  childhood.  He  was  thirteen 
inches  high,  and  rather  sluggish,  when  he  was  two  years 
old — as  nearly  all  of  us  are,  at  that  age.  He  is  thirty- 
seven  feet  high,  now,  and  the  stateliest  figure  in  America. 
His  legs  are  still  racked  with  growing-pains,  but  he  has  a 
good  time,  nevertheless.  Never  sleeps.  He  is  the  most 
active  and  energetic  member  of  the  New  England  Con 
science  Club ;  is  president  of  it.  Night  and  day  you  can 
find  him  pegging  away  at  Smith,  panting  with  his  labor, 
sleeves  rolled  up,  countenance  all  alive  with  enjoyment. 
He  has  got  his  victim  splendidly  dragooned,  now.  He  can 
make  poor  Smith  imagine  that  the  most  innocent  little 
thing  he  does  is  an  odious  sin ;  and  then  he  sets  to  work 
and  almost  tortures  the  soul  out  of  him  about  it." 

"  Smith  is  the  noblest  man  in  all  this  section,  and  the 
purest;  and  yet  is  always  breaking  his  heart  because  he 
cannot  be  good  !  Only  a  conscience  could  find  pleasure  in 
heaping  agony  upon  a  spirit  like  that.  Do  you  know  my  aunt 
Mary's  conscience  ?" 

"  I  have  seen  her  at  a  distance,  but  am  not  acquainted 
with  her.  She  lives  in  the  open  air  altogether,  because  no 
door  is  large  enough  to  admit  her." 

"  I  can  believe  that.  Let  me  see.  Do  you  know  the 
conscience  of  that  publisher  who  once  stole  some  sketches 


294 

of  mine  for  a  ' series'  of  his,  and  then  left  me  to  pay  the 
law  expenses  I  had  to  incur  in  order  to  choke  him  off?" 

"Yes.  He  has  a  wide  fame.  He  was  exhibited,  a  month 
ago,  with  some  other  antiquities,  for  the  benefit  of  a  recent 
Member  of  the  Cabinet's  conscience,  that  was  starving  in 
exile.  Tickets  and  fares  were  high,  but  I  travelled  for 
nothing  by  pretending  to  be  the  conscience  of  an  editor,  and 
got  in  for  half-price  by  representing  myself  to  be  the  con 
science  of  a  clergyman.  However,  the  publisher's  con 
science,  which  was  to  have  been  the  main  feature  of  the 
entertainment,  was  a  failure  —  as  an  exhibition.  He  was 
there,  but  what  of  that  ?  The  management  had  provided  a 
microscope  with  a  magnifying  power  of  only  thirty  thou 
sand  diameters,  and  so  nobody  got  to  see  him,  after  all. 
There  was  great  and  general  dissatisfaction,  of  course, 
but—" 

Just  here  there  was  an  eager  footstep  on  the  stair;  I 
opened  the  door,  and  my  aunt  Mary  burst  into  the  room. 
It  was  a  joyful  meeting,  and  a  cheery  bombardment  of 
questions  and  answers  concerning  family  matters  ensued. 
By-and-by  my  aunt  said — 

"  But  I  am  going  to  abuse  you  a  little  now.  You  prom 
ised  me,  the  day  I  saw  you  last,  that  you  would  look  after 
the  needs  of  the  poor  family  around  the  corner  as  faith 
fully  as  I  had  done  it  myself.  Well,  I  found  out  by  acci 
dent  that  you  failed  of  your  promise.  Was  that  right  ?" 

In  simple  truth,  I  never  had  thought  of  that  family  a 
second  time  !  And  now  such  a  splintering  pang  of  guilt 
shot  through  me !  I  glanced  up  at  my  Conscience. 
Plainly,  my  heavy  heart  was  affecting  him.  His  body  was 
drooping  forward ;  he  seemed  about  to  fall  from  the  book 
case.  My  aunt  continued : — 

"  And  think  how  you  have  neglected  my  poor  protegee 
at  the  almshouse,  you  dear,  hard-hearted  promise-breaker !" 


295 

I  blushed  scarlet,  and  my  tongue  was  tied.  As  the  sense 
of  my  guilty  negligence  waxed  sharper  and  stronger,  my 
Conscience  began  to  sway  heavily  back  and  forth ;  and 
when  my  aunt,  after  a  little  pause,  said  in  a  grieved  tone, 
"  Since  you  never  once  went  to  see  her,  maybe  it  will  not 
distress  you  now  to  know  that  that  poor  child  died,  months 
ago,  utterly  friendless  and  forsaken  !"  my  Conscience  could 
no  longer  bear  up  under  the  weight  of  my  sufferings,  but 
tumbled  headlong  from  his  high  perch  and  struck  the  floor 
with  a  dull,  leaden  thump.  He  lay  there  writhing  with 
pain  and  quaking  with  apprehension,  but  straining  every 
muscle  in  frantic  efforts  to  get  up.  In  a  fever  of  expectan 
cy  I  sprang  to  the  door,  locked  it,  placed  my  back  against 
it,  and  bent  a  watchful  gaze  upon  my  struggling  master. 
Already  my  fingers  were  itching  to  begin  their  murderous 
work. 

"  Oh,  what  can  be  the  matter  !"  exclaimed  my  aunt,  shrink 
ing  from  me,  and  following  with  her  frightened  eyes  the 
direction  of  mine.  My  breath  was  coming  in  short,  quick 
gasps  now,  and  my  excitement  was  almost  uncontrollable. 
My  aunt  cried  out, — 

"  Oh,  do  not  look  so  !  You  appall  me  !  Oh,  what  can 
the  matter  be  ?  What  is  it  you  see  ?  Why  do  you  stare  so  ? 
Why  do  you  work  your  fingers  like  that  ?" 

"  Peace,  woman  !"  I  said,  in  a  hoarse  whisper.  "  Look 
elsewhere  ;  pay  no  attention  to  me  ;  it  is  nothing — nothing. 
I  am  often  this  way.  It  will  pass  in  a  moment.  It  comes 
from  smoking  too  much." 

My  injured  lord  was  up,  wild-eyed  with  terror,  and  trying 
to  hobble  toward  the  door.  I  could  hardly  breathe,  I  was 
so  wrought  up.  My  aunt  wrung  her  hands,  and  said — 

"  Oh,  I  knew  how  it  would  be ;  I  knew  it  would  come  to 
this  at  last !  Oh,  I  implore  you  to  crush  out  that  fatal  habit 
while  it  may  yet  be  time  !  You  must  not,  you  shall  not  be 


296 

deaf  to  my  supplications  longer !"  My  struggling  Con 
science  showed  sudden  signs  of  weariness  !  "  Oh,  promise 
me  you  will  throw  off  this  hateful  slavery  of  tobacco  1" 
My  Conscience  began  to  reel  drowsily,  and  grope  with  his 
hands — enchanting  spectacle  !  "  I  beg  you,  I  beseech  you, 
I  implore  you  !  Your  reason  is  deserting  you !  There  is 
madness  in  your  eye !  It  flames  with  frenzy !  Oh,  hear 
me,  hear  me,  and  be  saved !  See,  I  plead  with  you  on  my 
very  knees  !"  As  she  sank  before  me  my  Conscience  reeled 
again,  and  then  drooped  languidly  to  the  floor,  blinking 
toward  me  a  last  supplication  for  mercy,  with  heavy  eyes. 
"  Oh,  promise,  or  you  are  lost !  Promise,  and  be  redeemed  ! 
Promise!  Promise  and  live!"  With  a  long-drawn  sigh 
my  conquered  Conscience  closed  his  eyes  and  fell  fast 
asleep ! 

With  an  exultant  shout  I  sprang  past  my  aunt,  and  in  an 
instant  I  had  my  life-long  foe  by  the  throat.  After  so  many 
years  of  waiting  and  longing,  he  was  mine  at  last.  I  tore 
him  to  shreds  and  fragments.  I  rent  the  fragments  to  bits. 
I  cast  the  bleeding  rubbish  into  the  fire,  and  drew  into  my 
nostrils  the  grateful  incense  of  my  burnt-offering.  At  last, 
and  forever,  my  Conscience  was  dead ! 

I  was  a  free  man !  I  turned  upon  my  poor  aunt,  who  was 
almost  petrified  with  terror,  and  shouted — 

"  Out  of  this  with  your  paupers,  your  charities,  your  re 
forms,  your  pestilent  morals  !  You  behold  before  you  a 
man  whose  life-conflict  is  done,  whose  soul  is  at  peace  ;  a 
man  whose  heart  is  dead  to  sorrow,  dead  to  suffering,  dead 
to  remorse ;  a  man  WITHOUT  A  CONSCIENCE  !  In  my  joy  I 
spare  you,  though  I  could  throttle  you  and  never  feel  a 
pang!  Fly!" 

She  fled.  Since  that  day  my  life  is  all  bliss.  Bliss,  un 
alloyed  bliss.  Nothing  in  all  the  world  could  persuade  me  to 
have  a  conscience  again.  I  settled  all  my  old  outstanding 


297 

scores,  and  began  the  world  anew.  I  killed  thirty-eight  per 
sons  during  the  first  two  weeks — all  of  them  on  account  of 
ancient  grudges.  I  burned  a  dwelling  that  interrupted  my 
view.  I  swindled  a  widow  and  some  orphans  out  of  their 
last  cow,  which  is  a  very  good  one,  though  not  thorough 
bred,  I  believe.  I  have  also  committed  scores  of  crimes, 
of  various  kinds,  and  have  enjoyed  my  work  exceeding 
ly,  whereas  it  would  formerly  have  broken  my  heart  and 
turned  my  hair  gray,  I  have  no  doubt. 

In  conclusion  I  wish  to  state,  by  way  of  advertisement, 
that  medical  colleges  desiring  assorted  tramps  for  scientific 
purposes,  either  by  the  gross,  by  cord  measurement,  or  per 
ton,  will  do  well  to  examine  the  lot  in  my  cellar  before  pur 
chasing  elsewhere,  as  these  were  all  selected  and  prepared 
by  myself,  and  can  be  had  at  a  low  rate,  because  I  wish  to 
clear  out  my  stock  and  get  ready  for  the  spring  trade. 


ABOUT  MAGNANIMOUS-INCIDENT 
LITERATURE 


ALL  my  life,  from  boyhood  up,  I  have  had  the  habit  of 
reading  a  certain  set  of  anecdotes,  written  in  the  quaint  vein 
of  The  World's  ingenious  Fabulist,  for  the  lesson  they  taught 
me  and  the  pleasure  they  gave  me.  They  lay  always  con 
venient  to  my  hand,  and  whenever  I  thought  meanly  of  my 
kind  I  turned  to  them,  and  they  banished  that  sentiment ; 
whenever  I  felt  myself  to  be  selfish,  sordid,  and  ignoble  I 
turned  to  them,  and  they  told  me  what  to  do  to  win  back  my 
self-respect.  Many  times  I  wished  that  the  charming  anec 
dotes  had  not  stopped  with  their  happy  climaxes,  but  had 
continued  the  pleasing  history  of  the  several  benefactors  and 
beneficiaries.  This  wish  rose  in  my  breast  so  persistently 
that  at  last  I  determined  to  satisfy  it  by  seeking  out  the  se 
quels  of  those  anecdotes  myself.  So  I  set  about  it,  and 
after  great  labor  and  tedious  research  accomplished  my  task. 
I  will  lay  the  result  before  you,  giving  you  each  anecdote  in 
its  turn,  and  following  it  with  its  sequel  as  I  gathered  it 
through  my  investigations. 

THE    GRATEFUL    POODLE 

One  day  a  benevolent  physician  (who  had  read  the 
books)  having  found  a  stray  poodle  suffering  from  a  broken 


299 

leg,  conveyed  the  poor  creature  to  his  home,  and  after  set 
ting  and  bandaging  the  injured  limb  gave  the  little  outcast 
its  liberty  again,  and  thought  no  more  about  the  matter. 
But  how  great  was  his  surprise,  upon  opening  his  door  one 
morning,  some  days  later,  to  find  the  grateful  poodle  pa 
tiently  waiting  there,  and  in  its  company  another  stray  dog, 
one  of  whose  legs,  by  some  accident,  had  been  broken. 
The  kind  physician  at  once  relieved  the  distressed  animal, 
nor  did  he  forget  to  admire  the  inscrutable  goodness  and 
mercy  of  God,  who  had  been  willing  to  use  so  humble  an 
instrument  as  the  poor  outcast  poodle  for  the  inculcating 
of,  etc.,  etc.,  etc. 

SEQUEL 

The  next  morning  the  benevolent  physician  found  the 
two  dogs,  beaming  with  gratitude,  waiting  at  his  door,  and 
with  them  two  other  dogs  —  cripples.  The  cripples  were 
speedily  healed,  and  the  four  went  their  way,  leaving  the 
benevolent  physician  more  overcome  by  pious  wonder  than 
ever.  The  day  passed,  the  morning  came.  There  at  the 
door  sat  now  the  four  reconstructed  dogs,  and  with  them 
four  others  requiring  reconstruction.  This  day  also  passed, 
and  another  morning  came ;  and  now  sixteen  dogs,  eight  of 
them  newly  crippled,  occupied  the  sidewalk,  and  the  peo 
ple  were  going  around.  By  noon  the  broken  legs  were  all 
set,  but  the  pious  wonder  in  the  good  physician's  breast 
was  beginning  to  get  mixed  with  involuntary  profanity. 
The  sun  rose  once  more,  and  exhibited  thirty-two  dogs,  six 
teen  of  them  with  broken  legs,  occupying  the  sidewalk  and 
half  of  the  street ;  the  human  spectators  took  up  the  rest  of 
the  room.  The  cries  of  the  wounded,  the  songs  of  the 
healed  brutes,  and  the  comments  of  the  on-looking  citizens 
made  great  and  inspiring  cheer,  but  traffic  was  interrupted 
in  that  street.  The  good  physician  hired  a  couple  of  as- 


sistant  surgeons  and  got  through  his  benevolent  work  be 
fore  dark,  first  taking  the  precaution  to  cancel  his  church 
membership,  so  that  he  might  express  himself  with  the  lati 
tude  which  the  case  required. 

But  some  things  have  their  limits.  When  once  more  the 
morning  dawned,  and  the  good  physician  looked  out  upon 
a  massed  and  far-reaching  multitude  of  clamorous  and  be 
seeching  dogs,  he  said,  "  I  might  as  well  acknowledge  it,  I 
have  been  fooled  by  the  books ;  they  only  tell  the  pretty 
part  of  the  story,  and  then  stop.  Fetch  me  the  shot-gun ; 
this  thing  has  gone  along  far  enough." 

He  issued  forth  with  his  weapon,  and  chanced  to  step 
upon  the  tail  of  the  original  poodle,  who  promptly  bit  him 
in  the  leg.  Now  the  great  and  good  work  which  this  poodle 
had  been  engaged  in  had  engendered  in  him  such  a  mighty 
and  augmenting  enthusiasm  as  to  turn  his  weak  head  at 
last  and  drive  him  mad.  A  month  later,  when  the  benevo 
lent  physician  lay  in  the  death  throes  of  hydrophobia,  he 
called  his  weeping  friends  about  him,  and  said — 

"  Beware  of  the  books.  They  tell  but  half  of  the  story. 
Whenever  a  poor  wretch  asks  you  for  help,  and  you  feel  a 
doubt  as  to  what  result  may  flow  from  your  benevolence, 
give  yourself  the  benefit  of  the  doubt  and  kill  the  appli 
cant." 

And  so  saying  he  turned  his  face  to  the  wall  and  gave 
up  the  ghost. 

THE    BENEVOLENT    AUTHOR 

A  poor  and  young  literary  beginner  had  tried  in  vain  to 
get  his  manuscripts  accepted.  At  last,  when  the  horrors 
of  starvation  were  staring  him  in  the  face,  he  laid  his  sad 
case  before  a  celebrated  author,  beseeching  his  counsel 
and  assistance.  This  generous  man  immediately  put  aside 


301 

his  own  matters  and  proceeded  to  peruse  one  of  the  dt 
spised  manuscripts.  Having  completed  his  kindly  task 
he  shook  the  poor  young  man  cordially  by  the  hand,  say 
ing,  "  I  perceive  merit  in  this ;  come  again  to  me  on  Mon 
day."  At  the  time  specified,  the  celebrated  author,  with  a 
sweet  smile,  but  saying  nothing,  spread  open  a  magazine 
which  was  damp  from  the  press.  What  was  the  poor  young 
man's  astonishment  to  discover  upon  the  printed  page  his 
own  article.  "  How  can  I  ever,"  said  he,  falling  upon  his 
knees  and  bursting  into  tears,  "  testify  my  gratitude  for  this 
noble  conduct !"  The  celebrated  author  was  the  renowned 
Snodgrass;  the  poor  young  beginner  thus  rescued  from  ob 
scurity  and  starvation  was  the  afterwards  equally  renowned 
Snagsby.  Let  this  pleasing  incident  admonish  us  to  turn 
a  charitable  ear  to  all  beginners  that  need  help. 

SEQUEL 

The  next  week  Snagsby  was  back  with  five  rejected 
manuscripts.  The  celebrated  author  was  a  little  surprised, 
because  in  the  books  the  young  struggler  had  needed  but 
one  lift,  apparently.  However,  he  ploughed  through  these 
papers,  removing  unnecessary  flowers  and  digging  up  some 
acres  of  adjective -stumps,  and  then  succeeded  in  getting 
two  of  the  articles  accepted. 

A  week  or  so  drifted  by,  and  the  grateful  Snagsby  ar 
rived  with  another  cargo.  The  celebrated  author  had  felt 
a.  mighty  glow  of  satisfaction  within  himself  the  first  time 
he  had  successfully  befriended  the  poor  young  struggler, 
and  had  compared  himself  with  the  generous  people  in 
the  books  with  high  gratification;  but  he  was  beginning  to 
suspect  now  that  he  had  struck  upon  something  fresh  in 
the  noble-episode  line.  His  enthusiasm  took  a  chill.  Still, 
he  could  not  bear  to  repulse  this  struggling  young  author, 
who  clung  to  him  with  such  pretty  simplicity  and  trustfulness. 


3Q2 

Well,  the  upshot  of  it  all  was  that  the  celebrated  author 
presently  found  himself  permanently  freighted  with  the 
poor  young  beginner.  All  his  mild  efforts  to  unload  his 
cargo  went  for  nothing.  He  had  to  give  daily  counsel,  daily 
encouragement;  he  had  to  keep  on  procuring  magazine  ac 
ceptances,  and  then  revamping  the  manuscripts  to  make 
them  presentable.  When  the  young  aspirant  got  a  start  at 
last,  he  rode  into  sudden  fame  by  describing  the  celebrated 
author's  private  life  with  such  a  caustic  humor  and  such 
minuteness  of  blistering  detail  that  the  book  sold  a  pro 
digious  edition,  and  broke  the  celebrated  author's  heart 
with  mortification.  With  his  latest  gasp  he  said,  "  Alas, 
the  books  deceived  me ;  they  do  not  tell  the  whole  story. 
Beware  of  the  struggling  young  author,  my  friends.  Whom 
God  sees  fit  to  starve,  let  not  man  presumptuously  rescue 
to  his  own  undoing." 

THE   GRATEFUL   HUSBAND 

One  day  a  lady  was  driving  through  the  principal  street 
of  a  great  city  with  her  little  boy,  when  the  horses  took 
fright  and  dashed  madly  away,  hurling  the  coachman  from 
his  box  and  leaving  the  occupants  of  the  carriage  paralyzed 
with  terror.  But  a  brave  youth  who  was  driving  a  grocery 
wagon  threw  himself  before  the  plunging  animals,  and  suc 
ceeded  in  arresting  their  flight  at  the  peril  of  his  own.* 
The  grateful  lady  took  his  number,  and  upon  arriving  at 
her  home  she  related  the  heroic  act  to  her  husband  (who 
had  read  the  books),  who  listened  with  streaming  eyes  to 
the  moving  recital,  and  who,  after  returning  thanks,  in  con 
junction  with  his  restored  loved  ones,  to  Him  who  suffereth 
not  even  a  sparrow  to  fall  to  the  ground  unnoticed,  sent 

*This  is  probably  a  misprint. — M.  T. 


3Q3 

for  the  brave  young  person,  and,  placing  a  check  for  five 
hundred  dollars  in  his  hand,  said,  "Take  this  as  a  reward 
for  your  noble  act,  William  Ferguson,  and  if  ever  you  shall 
need  a  friend,  remember  that  Thompson  McSpadden  has 
a  grateful  heart."  Let  us  learn  from  this  that  a  good  deed 
cannot  fail  to  benefit  the  doer,  however  humble  he  may  be. 

SEQUEL 

William  Ferguson  called  the  next  week  and  asked  Mr. 
McSpadden  to  use  his  influence  to  get  him  a  higher  em 
ployment,  he  feeling  capable  of  better  things  than  driving 
a  grocer's  wagon.  Mr.  McSpadden  got  him  an  under- 
clerkship  at  a  good  salary. 

Presently  William  Ferguson's  mother  fell  sick,  and  Will 
iam —  Wei),  to  cut  the  story  short,  Mr.  McSpadden  con 
sented  to  take  her  into  his  house.  Before  long  she  yearned 
for  the  society  of  her  younger  children ;  so  Mary  and  Julia 
were  admitted  also,  and  little  Jimmy,  their  brother.  Jim 
my  had  a  pocket-knife,  and  he  wandered  into  the  drawing- 
room  with  it  one  day,  alone,  and  reduced  ten  thousand  dol 
lars'  worth  of  furniture  to  an  indeterminable  value  in  rather 
less  than  three-quarters  of  an  hour.  A  day  or  two  later 
he  fell  down-stairs  and  broke  his  neck,  and  seventeen  of 
his  family's  relatives  came  to  the  house  to  attend  the 
funeral.  This  made  them  acquainted,  and  they  kept  the 
kitchen  occupied  after  that,  and  likewise  kept  the  McSpad- 
dens  busy  hunting  up  situations  of  various  sorts  for  them, 
and  hunting  up  more  when  they  wore  these  out.  The  old 
woman  drank  a  good  deal  and  swore  a  good  deal ;  but  the 
grateful  McSpaddens  knew  it  was  their  duty  to  reform  her, 
considering  what  her  son  had  done  for  them,  so  they  clave 
nobly  to  their  generous  task.  William  came  often  and  got 
decreasing  sums  of  money,  and  asked  for  higher  and  more 
lucrative  employments  —  which  the  grateful  McSpadden 


304 

more  or  less  promptly  procured  for  him.  McSpadden  con 
sented  also,  after  some  demur,  to  fit  William  for  college ; 
but  when  the  first  vacation  came  and  the  hero  requested 
to  be  sent  to  Europe  for  his  health,  the  persecuted  McSpad 
den  rose  against  the  tyrant  and  revolted.  He  plainly  and 
squarely  refused.  William  Ferguson's  mother  was  so  as 
tounded  that  she  let  her  gin-bottle  drop,  and  her  profane 
lips  refused  to  do  their  office.  When  she  recovered  she 
said  in  a  half-gasp,  "  Is  this  your  gratitude  ?  Where  would 
your  wife  and  boy  be  now,  but  for  my  son?" 

William  said,  "Is  this  your  gratitude?  Did  I  save  your 
wife's  life  or  not  ?  tell  me  that !" 

Seven  relations  swarmed  in  from  the  kitchen  and  each 
said,  "  And  this  is  his  gratitude  !" 

William's  sisters  stared,  bewildered,  and  said,  "  And  this 
is  his  grat — "  but  were  interrupted  by  their  mother,  who 
burst  into  tears  and  exclaimed,  "To  think  that  my  sainted 
little  Jimmy  threw  away  his  life  in  the  service  of  such  a 
reptile !" 

Then  the  pluck  of  the  revolutionary  McSpadden  rose  to 
the  occasion,  and  he  replied  with  fervor,  "  Out  of  my  house, 
the  whole  beggarly  tribe  of  you !  I  was  beguiled  by  the 
books,  but  shall  never  be  beguiled  again — once  is  sufficient 
for  me."  And  turning  to  William  he  shouted,  "Yes,  you 
did  save  my  wife's  life,  and  the  next  man  that  does  it  shall 
die  in  his  tracks !" 

Not  being  a  clergyman,  I  place  my  text  at  the  end  of  my 
sermon  instead  of  at  the  beginning.  Here  it  is,  from  Mr. 
Noah  Brooks's  Recollections  of  President  Lincoln  in  Scrib- 
ner's  Monthly — 

J.  H.  Hackett,  in  his  part  of  Falstaff,  was  an  actor  who  gave  Mr. 
Lincoln  great  delight.  With  his  usual  desire  to  signify  to  others  his 


sense  of  obligation,  Mr.  Lincoln  wrote  a  genial  little  note  to  the  actor, 
expressing  his  pleasure  at  witnessing  his  performance.  Mr.  Hackett, 
in  reply,  sent  a  book  of  some  sort ;  perhaps  it  was  one  of  his  own  au 
thorship.  He  also  wrote  several  notes  to  the  President.  One  night, 
quite  late,  when  the  episode  had  passed  out  of  my  mind,  I  went  to  the 
White  House  in  answer  to  a  message.  Passing  into  the  President's  of 
fice,  I  noticed,  to  my  surprise,  Hackett  sitting  in  the  anteroom  as  if 
waiting  for  an  audience.  The  President  asked  me  if  any  one  was  out 
side.  On  being  told,  he  said,  half  sadly,  "Oh,  I  can't  see  him,  I  can't 
see  him;  I  was  in  hopes  he  had  gone  away."  Then  he  added,  "  Now 
this  just  illustrates  the  difficulty  of  having  pleasant  friends  and  acquaint 
ances  in  this  place.  You  know  how  I  liked  Hackett  as  an  actor,  and 
how  I  wrote  to  tell  him  so.  He  sent  me  that  book,  and  there  I  thought 
the  matter  would  end.  He  is  a  master  of  his  place  in  the  profession,  I 
suppose,  and  well  fixed  in  it ;  but  just  because  we  had  a  little  friendly 
correspondence,  such  as  any  two  men  might  have,  he  wants  something. 
What  do  you  suppose  he  wants?"  I  could  not  guess,  and  Mr.  Lincoln 
added,  "  Well,  he  wants  to  be  consul  to  London.  Oh,  dear  !" 

I  will  observe,  in  conclusion,  that  the  William  Ferguson 
incident  occurred,  and  within  my  personal  knowledge — 
though  I  have  changed  the  nature  of  the  details,  to  keep 
William  from  recognizing  himself  in  it. 

All  the  readers  of  this  article  have  in  some  sweet  and 
gushing  hour  of  their  lives  played  the  role  of  Magnanimous- 
Incident  hero.  I  wish  I  knew  how  many  there  are  among 
them  who  are  willing  to  talk  about  that  episode  and  like  to 
be  reminded  of  the  consequences  that  flowed  from  it. 


PUNCH,  BROTHERS,  PUNCH 


WILL  the  reader  please  to  cast  his  eye  over  the  following 
lines,  and  see  if  he  can  discover  anything  harmful  in  them  ? 

Conductor,  when  you  receive  a  fare, 
Punch  in  the  presence  of  the  passenjare  ! 
A  blue  trip  slip  for  an  eight-cent  fare, 
A  buff  trip  slip  for  a  six-cent  fare, 
A  pink  trip  slip  for  a  three-cent  fare, 
Punch  in  the  presence  of  the  passenjare  ! 

CHORUS 

Punch,  brothers  !  punch  with  care  ! 
Punch  in  the  presence  of  the  passenjare  ! 

I  came  across  these  jingling  rhymes  in  a  newspaper,  a 
little  while  ago,  and  read  them  a  couple  of  times.  They 
took  instant  and  entire  possession  of  me.  All  through 
breakfast  they  went  waltzing  through  my  brain  ;  and  when, 
at  last,  I  rolled  up  my  napkin,  I  could  not  tell  whether  I  had 
eaten  anything  or  not.  I  had  carefully  laid  out  my  day's 
work  the  day  before — a  thrilling  tragedy  in  the  novel  which 
I  am  writing.  I  went  to  my  den  to  begin  my  deed  of  blood. 
I  took  up  my  pen,  but  all  I  could  get  it  to  say  was,  "  Punch 
in  the  presence  of  the  passenjare."  I  fought  hard  for  an 
hour,  but  it  was  useless.  My  head  kept  humming.  "A 
blue  trip  slip  for  an  eight-cent  fare,  a  buff  trip  slip  for  a  six- 


3Q7 

cent  fare,"  and  so  on  and  so  on,  without  peace  or  respite. 
The  day's  work  was  ruined — I  could  see  that  plainly  enough, 
I  gave  up  and  drifted  down-town,  and  presently  discovered 
that  my  feet  were  keeping  time  to  that  relentless  jingle. 
When  I  could  stand  it  no  longer  I  altered  my  step.  But  it 
did  no  good;  those  rhymes  accommodated  themselves  to 
the  new  step  and  went  on  harassing  me  just  as  before.  I 
returned  home,  and  suffered  all  the  afternoon ;  suffered  all 
through  an  unconscious  and  unrefreshing  dinner;  suffered, 
and  cried,  and  jingled  all  through  the  evening;  went  to  bed 
and  rolled,  tossed,  and  jingled  right  along,  the  same  as  ever ; 
got  up  at  midnight  frantic,  and  tried  to  read;  but  there  was 
nothing  visible  upon  the  whirling  page  except  "  Punch !  punch 
in  the  presence  of  the  passenjare."  By  sunrise  I  was  out 
of  my  mind,  and  everybody  marvelled  and  was  distressed 
at  the  idiotic  burden  of  my  ravings  — "  Punch !  oh,  punch  ! 
punch  in  the  presence  of  the  passenjare  !" 

Two  days  later,  on  Saturday  morning,  I  arose,  a  tottering 
wreck,  and  went  forth  to  fulfil  an  engagement  with  a  valued 

friend,  the  Rev.  Mr. ,  to  walk  to  the  Talcott  Tower,  ten 

miles  distant.  He  stared  at  rne,  but  asked  no  questions. 

We  started.  Mr. talked,  talked,  talked — as  is  his  wont. 

I  said  nothing ;  I  heard  nothing.  At  the  end  of  a  mile,  Mr. 
said — 

"  Mark,  are  you  sick  ?  I  never  saw  a  man  look  so  hag 
gard  and  worn  and  absent-minded.  Say  something  ;  do  !" 

Drearily,  without  enthusiasm,  I  said  :  "  Punch,  brothers, 
punch  with  care !  Punch  in  the  presence  of  the  passenjare  !" 

My  friend  eyed  me  blankly,  looked  perplexed,  then  said — 

"  I  do  not  think  I  get  your  drift,  Mark.  There  does  not 
seem  to  be  any  relevancy  in  what  you  have  said,  certainly 
nothing  sad;  and  yet  —  maybe  it  was  the  way  you  said  the 
words  — I  never  heard  anything  that  sounded  so  pathetic. 
What  is—" 


jo8_ 

But  I  heard  no  more.  I  was  already  far  away  with  my 
pitiless,  heart-breaking  "blue  trip  slip  for  an  eight-cent  fare, 
buff  trip  slip  for  a  six-cent  fare,  pink  trip  slip  for  a  three- 
cent  fare ;  punch  in  the  presence  of  the  passenjare."  I  do 
not  know  what  occurred  during  the  other  nine  miles.  How 
ever,  all  of  a  sudden  Mr. laid  his  hand  on  my  shoulder 

and  shouted — 

"  Oh,  wake  up  !  wake  up  !  wake  up  !  Don't  sleep  all  day ! 
Here  we  are  at  the  Tower,  man  !  I  have  talked  myself 
deaf  and  dumb  and  blind,  and  never  got  a  response.  Just 
look  at  this  magnificent  autumn  landscape !  Look  at  it ! 
look  at  it !  Feast  your  eyes  on  it !  You  have  travelled  ; 
you  have  seen  boasted  landscapes  elsewhere.  Come,  now, 
deliver  an  honest  opinion.  What  do  you  say  to  this  ?" 

I  sighed  wearily,  and  murmured — 

"A  buff  trip  slip  for  a  six-cent  fare,  a  pink  trip  slip  for  a 
three-cent  fare,  punch  in  the  presence  of  the  passenjare." 

Rev.  Mr. stood  there,  very  grave,  full  of  concern,  ap 
parently,  and  looked  long  at  me ;  then  he  said — 

"Mark,  there  is  something  about  this  that  I  cannot  under 
stand.  Those  are  about  the  same  words  you  said  before ; 
there  does  not  seem  to  be  anything  in  them,  and  yet  they 
nearly  break  my  heart  when  you  say  them.  Punch  in  the — 
how  is  it  they  go  ?" 

I  began  at  the  beginning  and  repeated  all  the  lines.  My 
friend's  face  lighted  with  interest.  He  said — 

"  Why,  what  a  captivating  jingle  it  is  !  It  is  almost  music. 
It  flows  along  so  nicely.  I  have  nearly  caught  the  rhymes 
myself.  Say  them  over  just  once  more,  and  then  I'll  have 
them,  sure." 

I  said  them  over.  Then  Mr. said  them.  He  made 

one  little  mistake,  which  I  corrected.  The  next  time  and 
the  next  he  got  them  right.  Now  a  great  burden  seemed  to 
tumble  from  my  shoulders.  That  torturing  jingle  departed 


out  of  my  brain,  and  a  grateful  sense  of  rest  and  peace 
descended  upon  me.  I  was  light-hearted  enough  to  sing; 
and  I  did  sing  for  half  an  hour,  straight  along,  as  we  went 
jogging  homeward.  Then  my  freed  tongue  found  blessed 
speech  again,  and  the  pent  talk  of  many  a  weary  hour  be 
gan  to  gush  and  flow.  It  flowed  on  and  on,  joyously,  jubi 
lantly,  until  the  fountain  was  empty  and  dry.  As  I  wrung 
my  friend's  hand  at  parting,  I  said — 

"  Haven't  we  had  a  royal  good  time  !  But  now  I  remem 
ber,  you  haven't  said  a  word  for  two  hours.  Come,  come, 
out  with  something  !" 

The  Rev.  Mr. turned  a  lack-lustre  eye  upon  me,  drew 

a  deep  sigh,  and  said,  without  animation,  without  apparent 
consciousness-— 

"  Punch,  brothers,  punch  with  care  !  Punch  in  the  pres 
ence  of  the  passenjare  !" 

A  pang  shot  through  me  as  I  said  to  myself,  "Poor  fel 
low,  poor  fellow!  he  has  got  it,  now." 

I  did  not  see  Mr. for  two  or  three  days  after  that. 

Then,  on  Tuesday  evening,  he  staggered  into  my  presence 
and  sank  dejectedly  into  a  seat.  He  was  pale,  worn ;  he  was 
a  wreck.  He  lifted  his  faded  eyes  to  my  face  and  said — 

"  Ah,  Mark,  it  was  a  ruinous  investment  that  I  made  in 
those  heartless  rhymes.  They  have  ridden  me  like  a  night 
mare,  day  and  night,  hour  after  hour,  to  this  very  moment. 
Since  I  saw  you  I  have  suffered  the  torments  of  the  lost. 
Saturday  evening  I  had  a  sudden  call,  by  telegraph,  and 
took  the  night  train  for  Boston.  The  occasion  was  the 
death  of  a  valued  old  friend  who  had  requested  that  I 
should  preach  his  funeral  sermon.  I  took  my  seat  in  the 
cars  and  set  myself  to  framing  the  discourse.  But  I  never 
got  beyond  the  opening  paragraph  ;  for  then  the  train  start 
ed  and  the  car -wheels  began  their  '  clack,  clack —  clack- 
clack-clack!  clack,  clack  —  clack -clack- clack  !'  and  right 


away  those  odious  rhymes  fitted  themselves  to  that  accom 
paniment.  For  an  hour  I  sat  there  and  set  a  syllable  of 
those  rhymes  to  every  separate  and  distinct  clack  the  car- 
wheels  made.  Why,  I  was  as  fagged  out,  then,  as  if  I  had 
been  chopping  wood  all  day.  My  skull  was  splitting  with 
headache.  It  seemed  to  me  that  I  must  go  mad  if  I  sat 
there  any  longer ;  so  I  undressed  and  went  to  bed.  I 
stretched  myself  out  in  my  berth,  and — well,  you  know  what 
the  result  was.  The  thing  went  right  along,  just  the  same. 
'Clack-clack-clack,  a  blue  trip  slip,  clack-clack-clack,  for 
an  eight-cent  fare  ;  clack-clack-clack,  a  buff  trip  slip,  clack- 
clack-clack,  for  a  six-cent  fare,  and  so  on,  and  so  on,  and 
so  on — punch  in  the  presence  of  the  passenjare  !'  Sleep  ? 
Not  a  single  wink!  I  was  almost  a  lunatic  when  I  got  to 
Boston.  Don't  ask  me  about  the  funeral.  I  did  the  best  I 
could,  but  every  solemn  individual  sentence  was  meshed  and 
tangled  and  woven  in  and  out  with  ;  Punch,  brothers,  punch 
with  care,  punch  in  the  presence  of  the  passenjare.'  And 
the  most  distressing  thing  was  that  my  delivery  dropped 
into  the  undulating  rhythm  of  those  pulsing  rhymes,  and  I 
could  actually  catch  absent-minded  people  nodding  time  to 
the  swing  of  it  with  their  stupid  heads.  And,  Mark,  you 
may  believe  it  or  not,  but  before  I  got  through,  the  entire 
assemblage  were  placidly  bobbing  their  heads  in  solemn 
unison,  mourners,  undertaker,  and  all.  The  moment  I  had 
finished,  I  fled  to  the  anteroom  in  a  state  bordering  on 
frenzy.  Of  course  it  would  be  my  luck  to  find  a  sorrowing 
and  aged  maiden  aunt  of  the  deceased  there,  who  had  ar 
rived  from  Springfield  too  late  to  get  into  the  church.  She 
began  to  sob,  and  said — 

"  '  Oh,  oh,  he  is  gone,  he  is  gone,  and  I  didn't  see  him 
before  he  died !' 

"  *  Yes  !'  I  said,  *  he  is  gone,  he  is  gone,  he  is  gone — oh, 
will  this  suffering  never  cease  !' 


3" 

"  *  You  loved  him,  then  !     Oh,  you  too  loved  him  P 

"  '  Loved  him  !     Loved  who  ?' 

"  '  Why,  my  poor  George  !  my  poor  nephew!' 

«  «  Oh — him  !  Yes — oh,  yes,  yes.  Certainly — certainly. 
Punch —punch — oh,  this  misery  will  kill  me!' 

"  *  Bless  you  !  bless  you,  sir,  for  these  sweet  words  !  /, 
too,  suffer  in  this  dear  loss.  Were  you  present  during  his 
last  moments  ?' 

"  *  Yes.     I — whose  last  moments  ?' 

"  '  His.     The  dear  departed's.' 

"  '  Yes  !  Oh,  yes — yes— yes  !  I  suppose  so,  I  think  so,  7 
don't  know  !  Oh,  certainly — I  was  there — 7  was  there  !' 

" '  Oh,  what  a  privilege  !  what  a  precious  privilege  !  And 
his  last  words — oh,  tell  me,  tell  me  his  last  words !  What 
did  he  say  ?' 

"  '  He  said  —  he  said  —  oh,  my  head,  my  head,  my  head ! 
He  said  —  he  said  —  he  never  said  anything  but  Punch, 
punch,  punch  in  the  presence  of  the  passenjare  !  Oh,  leave 
me,  madam !  In  the  name  of  all  that  is  generous,  leave  me 
to  my  madness,  my  .misery,  my  despair!  —  a  buff  trip  slip 
for  a  six-cent  fare,  a  pink  trip  slip  for  a  three-cent  fare  — 
endu-rance  can  no  fur-ther  go ! — PUNCH  in  the  presence  of 
the  passenjare!' " 

My  friend's  hopeless  eyes  rested  upon  mine  a  pregnant 
minute,  and  then  he  said  impressively — 

"  Mark,  you  do  not  say  anything.  You  do  not  offer  me 
any  hope.  But,  ah  me,  it  is  just  as  well — it  is  just  as  well. 
You  could  not  do  me  any  good.  The  time  has  long  gone 
by  when  words  could  comfort  me.  Something  tells  me 
that  my  tongue  is  doomed  to  wag  forever  to  the  jigger  of 
that  remorseless  jingle.  There — there  it  is  coming  on  me 
again  :  a  blue  trip  slip  for  an  eight-cent  fare,  a  buff  trip  slip 
for  a—" 

Thus  murmuring  faint  and  fainter,  my  friend  sank  into  a 


312 

peaceful  trance  and  forgot  his  sufferings  in  a  blessed  res 
pite. 

How  did  I  finally  save  him  from  the  asylum  ?  I  took 
him  to  a  neighboring  university  and  made  him  discharge 
the  burden  of  his  persecuting  rhymes  into  the  eager  ears  of 
the  poor,  unthinking  students.  How  is  it  with  them,  now  ? 
The  result  is  too  sad  to  tell.  Why  did  I  write  this  article  ? 
It  was  for  a  worthy,  even  a  noble,  purpose.  It  was  to  warn 
you,  reader,  if  you  should  come  across  those  merciless 
rhymes,  to  avoid  them — avoid  them  as  you  would  a  pesti 
lence  ! 


THE  GREAT  REVOLUTION  IN   PITCAIRN 


LET  me  refresh  the  reader's  memory  a  little.  Nearly  a 
hundred  years  ago  the  crew  of  the  British  ship  Bounty  mu 
tinied,  set  the  captain  and  his  officers  adrift  upon  the  open 
sea,  took  possession  of  the  ship,  and  sailed  southward. 
They  procured  wives  for  themselves  among  the  natives  of 
Tahiti,  then  proceeded  to  a  lonely  little  rock  in  mid-Pacific, 
called  Pitcairn's  Island,  wrecked  the  vessel,  stripped  her  of 
everything  that  might  be  useful  to  a  new  colony,  and  estab 
lished  themselves  on  shore. 

Pitcairn's  is  so  far  removed  from  the  track  of  commerce 
that  it  was  many  years  before  another  vessel  touched  there. 
It  had  always  been  considered  an  uninhabited  island  ;  so 
when  a  ship  did  at  last  drop  its  anchor  there,  in  1808,  the 
captain  was  greatly  surprised  to  find  the  place  peopled. 
Although  the  mutineers  had  fought  among  themselves,  and 
gradually  killed  each  other  off  until  only  two  or  three  of 
the  original  stock  remained,  these  tragedies  had  not  oc 
curred  before  a  number  of  children  had  been  born  ;  so  in 
1808  the  island  had  a  population  of  twenty-seven  persons. 
John  Adams,  the  chief  mutineer,  still  survived,  and  was  to 
live  many  years  yet,  as  governor  and  patriarch  of  the  flock. 
From  being  mutineer  and  homicide,  he  had  turned  Chris 
tian  and  teacher,  and  his  nation  of  twenty-seven  persons 
was  now  the  purest  and  devoutest  in  Christendom.  Adams 


had  long  ago  hoisted  the  British  flag  and  constituted  his 
island  an  appanage  of  the  British  crown. 

To-day  the  population  numbers  ninety  persons  —  sixteen 
men,  nineteen  women,  twenty -five  boys,  and  thirty  girls — 
all  descendants  of  the  mutineers,  all  bearing  the  family 
names  of  those  mutineers,  and  all  speaking  English,  and 
English  only.  The  island  stands  high  up  out  of  the  sea, 
and  has  precipitous  walls.  It  is  about  three-quarters  of  a 
mile  long,  and  in  places  is  as  much  as  half  a  mile  wide. 
Such  arable  land  as  it  affords  is  held  by  the  several  fam 
ilies,  according  to  a  division  made  many  years  ago. 
There  is  some  live-stock — goats,  pigs,  chickens,  and  cats; 
but  no  dogs,  and  no  large  animals.  There  is  one  church 
building — used  also  as  a  capitol,  a  school -house,  and  a 
public  library.  The  title  of  the  governor  has  been,  for  a 
generation  or  two,  "  Magistrate  and  Chief  Ruler,  in  subor 
dination  to  her  Majesty  the  Queen  of  Great  Britain."  It 
was  his  province  to  make  the  laws,  as  well  as  execute  them. 
His  office  was  elective  ;  everybody  over  seventeen  years  old 
had  a  vote — no  matter  about  the  sex. 

The  sole  occupations  of  the  people  were  farming  and 
fishing  ;  their  sole  recreation,  religious  services.  There  has 
never  been  a  shop  in  the  island,  nor  any  money.  The 
habits  and  dress  of  the  people  have  always  been  primitive, 
and  their  laws  simple  to  puerility.  They  have  lived  in  a 
deep  Sabbath  tranquillity,  far  from  the  world  and  its  ambi 
tions  and  vexations,  and  neither  knowing  nor  caring  what 
was  going  on  in  the  mighty  empires  that  lie  beyond  their 
limitless  ocean  solitudes.  Once  in  three  or  four  years  a 
ship  touched  there,  moved  them  with  aged  news  of  bloody 
battles,  devastating  epidemics,  fallen  thrones,  and  ruined 
dynasties,  then  traded  them  some  soap  and  flannel  for  some 
yams  and  bread-fruit,  and  sailed  away,  leaving  them  to  retire 
into  their  peaceful  dreams  and  pious  dissipations  once  more. 


On  the  8th  of  last  September,  Admiral  de  Horsey,  com 
mander -in- chief  of  the  British  fleet  in  the  Pacific,  visited 
Pitcairn's  Island,  and  speaks  as  follows  in  his  official  re 
port  to  the  admiralty  — 

They  have  beans,  carrots,  turnips,  cabbages,  and  a  little  maize  ;  pine 
apples,  fig-trees,  custard-apples,  and  oranges  ;  lemons  and  cocoa-nuts. 
Clothing  is  obtained  alone  from  passing  ships,  in  barter  for  refresh 
ments.  There  are  no  springs  on  the  island,  but  as  it  rains  generally 
once  a  month  they  have  plenty  of  water,  although  at  times,  in  former 
years,  they  have  suffered  from  drought.  No  alcoholic  liquors,  except 
for  medicinal  purposes,  are  used,  and  a  drunkard  is  unknown.  .  .  . 

The  necessary  articles  required  by  the  islanders  are  best  shown  by 
those  we  furnished  in  barter  for  refreshments  :  namely,  flannel,  serge, 
drill,  half-boots,  combs,  tobacco,  and  soap.  They  also  stand  much  in 
need  of  maps  and  slates  for  their  school,  and  tools  of  any  kind  are  most 
acceptable.  I  caused  them  to  be  supplied  from  the  public  stores  with  a 
union- jack  for  display  on  the  arrival  of  ships,  and  a  pit  saw,  of  which 
they  were  greatly  in  need.  This,  I  trust,  will  meet  the  approval  of  their 
lordships.  If  the  munificent  people  of  England  were  only  aware  of  the 
wants  of  this  most  deserving  little  colony,  they  would  not  long  go  un- 
supplied.  .  .  . 

Divine  service  is  held  every  Sunday  at  10.30  A.M.  and  at  3  P.M.,  in 
the  house  built  and  used  by  John  Adams  for  that  purpose  until  he  died 
in  1829.  It  is  conducted  strictly  in  accordance  with  the  liturgy  of  the 
Church  of  England,  by  Mr.  Simon  Young,  their  selected  pastor,  who  is 
much  respected.  A  Bible  class  is  held  every  Wednesday,  when  all  who 
conveniently  can,  attend.  There  is  also  a  general  meeting  for  prayer 
on  the  first  Friday  in  every  month.  Family  prayers  are  said  in  every 
house  the  first  thing  in  the  morning  and  the  last  thing  in  the  evening, 
and  no  food  is  partaken  of  without  asking  God's  blessing  before  and 
afterwards.  Of  these  islanders'  religious  attributes  no  one  can  speak 
without  deep  respect.  A  people  whose  greatest  pleasure  and  privilege 
is  to  commune  in  prayer  with  their  God,  and  to  join  in  hymns  of  praise, 
and  who  are,  moreover,  cheerful,  diligent,  and  probably  freer  from  vice 
than  any  other  community,  need  no  priest  among  them. 

Now  I  come  to  a  sentence  in  the  admiral's  report  which 
he  dropped  carelessly  from  his  pen,  no  doubt,  and  never 


gave  the  matter  a  second  thought.  He  little  imagined 
what  a  freight  of  tragic  prophecy  it  bore !  This  is  the  sen 
tence — 

One  stranger,  an  American,  has  settled  on  the  island  —  a  doubtful 
acquisition. 

A  doubtful  acquisition  indeed !  Captain  Ormsby,  in  the 
American  ship  Harriet,  touched  at  Pitcairn's  nearly  four 
months  after  the  admiral's  visit,  and  from  the  facts  which  he 
gathered  there  we  now  know  all  about  that  American.  Let 
us  put  these  facts  together,  in  historical  form.  The  Amer 
ican's  name  was  Butterworth  Stavely.  As  soon  as  he  had 
become  well  acquainted  with  all  the  people — and  this  took 
but  a  few  days,  of  course — he  began  to  ingratiate  himself 
with  them  by  all  the  arts  he  could  command.  He  became 
exceedingly  popular,  and  much  looked  up  to  ;  for  one  of  the 
first  things  he  did  was  to  forsake  his  worldly  way  of  life,  and 
throw  all  his  energies  into  religion.  He  was  always  reading 
his  Bible,  or  praying,  or  singing  hymns,  or  asking  blessings. 
In  prayer,  no  one  had  such  "  liberty  "  as  he,  no  one  could 
pray  so  long  or  so  well. 

At  last,  when  he  considered  the  time  to  be  ripe,  he  began 
secretly  to  sow  the  seeds  of  discontent  among  the  people. 
It  was  his  deliberate  purpose,  from  the  beginning,  to  sub 
vert  the  government,  but  of  course  he  kept  that  to  himself 
for  a  time.  He  used  different  arts  with  different  individu 
als.  He  awakened  dissatisfaction  in  one  quarter  by  calling 
attention  to  the  shortness  of  the  Sunday  services;  he  ar 
gued  that  there  should  be  three  three-hour  services  on  Sun 
day  instead  of  only  two.  Many  had  secretly  held  this  opin 
ion  before ;  they  now  privately  banded  themselves  into  a 
party  to  work  for  it.  He  showed  certain  of  the  women 
that  they  were  not  allowed  sufficient  voice  in  the  prayer- 
meetings  -,  thus  another  party  was  formed.  No  weapon 


317 


was  beneath  his  notice;  he  even  descended  to  the  children, 
and  awoke  discontent  in  their  breasts  because — as  he  dis 
covered  for  them — they  had  not  enough  Sunday-school. 
This  created  a  third  party. 

Now,  as  the  chief  of  these  parties,  he  found  himself  the 
strongest  power  in  the  community.  So  he  proceeded  to  his 
next  move  —  a  no  less  important  one  than  the  impeach 
ment  of  the  chief  magistrate,  James  Russell  Nickoy;  a  man 
of  character  and  ability,  and  possessed  of  great  wealth,  he 
being  the  owner  of  a  house  with  a  parlor  to  it,  three  acres 
and  a  half  of  yam  land,  and  the  only  boat  in  Pitcairn's,  a 
whale-boat ;  and,  most  unfortunately,  a  pretext  for  this  im 
peachment  offered  itself  at  just  the  right  time.  One  of 
the  earliest  and  most  precious  laws  of  the  island  was  the 
law  against  trespass.  It  was  held  in  great  reverence,  and 
was  regarded  as  the  palladium  of  the  people's  liberties. 
About  thirty  years  ago  an  important  case  came  before  the 
courts  under  this -law,  in  this  wise:  a  chicken  belonging 
to  Elizabeth  Young  (aged,  at  that  time,  fifty-eight,  a  daugh 
ter  of  John  Mills,  one  of  the  mutineers  of  the  Bounty) 
trespassed  upon  the  grounds  of  Thursday  October  Chris 
tian  (aged  twenty- nine,  a  grandson  of  Fletcher  Christian, 
one  of  the  mutineers).  Christian  killed  the  chicken.  Ac 
cording  to  the  law,  Christian  could  keep  the  chicken ;  or,  if 
he  preferred,  he  could  restore  its  remains  to  the  owner,  and 
receive  damages  in  "produce"  to  an  amount  equivalent  to 
the  waste  and  injury  wrought  by  the  trespasser.  The  court 
records  set  forth  that  "  the  said  Christian  aforesaid  did  de 
liver  the  aforesaid  remains  to  the  said  Elizabeth  Young, 
and  did  demand  one  bushel  of  yams  in  satisfaction  of  the 
damage  done."  But  Elizabeth  Young  considered  the  de 
mand  exorbitant ;  the  parties  could  not  agree ;  therefore 
Christian  brought  suit  in  the  courts.  He  lost  his  case  in 
the  justice's  court;  at  least,  he  was  awarded  only  a  half- 


peck  of  yams,  which  he  considered  insufficient,  and  in  the 
nature  of  a  defeat.  He  appealed.  The  case  lingered  sev 
eral  years  in  an  ascending  grade  of  courts,  and  always 
resulted  in  decrees  sustaining  the  original  verdict ;  and 
finally  the  thing  got  into  the  supreme  court,  and  there  it 
stuck  for  twenty  years.  But  last  summer,  even  the  supreme 
court  managed  to  arrive  at  a  decision  at  last.  Once 
more  the  original  verdict  was  sustained.  Christian  then 
said  he  was  satisfied ;  but  Stavely  was  present,  and  whis 
pered  to  him  and  to  his  lawyer,  suggesting,  "  as  a  mere 
form,"  that  the  original  law  be  exhibited,  in  order  to  make 
sure  that  it  still  existed.  It  seemed  an  odd  idea,  but  an 
ingenious  one.  So  the  demand  was  made.  A  messenger 
was  sent  to  the  magistrate's  house ;  he  presently  returned 
with  the  tidings  that  it  had  disappeared  from  among  the 
state  archives. 

The  court  now  pronounced  its  late  decision  void,  since  it 
had  been  made  under  a  law  which  had  no  actual  existence. 

Great  excitement  ensued,  immediately.  The  news  swept 
abroad  over  the  whole  island  that  the  palladium  of  the 
public  liberties  was  lost  —  maybe  treasonably  destroyed. 
Within  thirty  minutes  almost  the  entire  nation  were  in  the 
court-room — that  is  to  say,  the  church.  The  impeachment 
of  the  chief  magistrate  followed,  upon  Stavely's  motion. 
The  accused  met  his  misfortune  with  the  dignity  which 
became  his  great  office.  He  did  not  plead,  or  even  argue : 
he  offered  the  simple  defence  that  he  had  not  meddled 
with  the  missing  law ;  that  he  had  kept  the  state  archives 
in  the  same  candle-box  that  had  been  used  as  their  de 
pository  from  the  beginning ;  and  that  he  was  innocent  of 
the  removal  or  destruction  of  the  lost  document. 

But  nothing  could  save  him ,  he  was  found  guilty  of  mis- 
prision  of  treason,  and  degraded  from  his  office,  and  all  his 
property  was  confiscated. 


The  lamest  part  of  the  whole  shameful  matter  was  the 
reason  suggested  by  his  enemies  for  his  destruction  of  the 
law,  to  wit :  that  he  did  it  to  favor  Christian,  because  Chris 
tian  was  his  cousin !  Whereas  Stavely  was  the  only  indi 
vidual  in  the  entire  nation  who  was  not  his  cousin.  The 
reader  must  remember  that  all  these  people  are  the  de 
scendants  of  half  a  dozen  men  ;  that  the  first  children  inter 
married  together  and  bore  grandchildren  to  the  mutineers ; 
that  these  grandchildren  intermarried;  after  them,  great 
and  great-great-grandchildren  intermarried:  so  that  to-day 
everybody  is  blood  kin  to  everybody.  Moreover,  the  rela 
tionships  are  wonderfully,  even  astoundingly,  mixed  up  and 
complicated.  A  stranger,  for  instance,  says  to  an  islander — 

"  You  speak  of  that  young  woman  as  your  cousin  ;  a  while 
ago  you  called  her  your  aunt." 

"  Well,  she  is  my  aunt,  and  my  cousin  too.  And  also  my 
step-sister,  my  niece,  my  fourth  cousin,  my  thirty-third  cous 
in,  my  forty-second  cousin,  my  great-aunt,  my  grandmother; 
my  widowed  sister-in-law  —  and  next  week  she  will  be  my 
wife." 

So  the  charge  of  nepotism  against  the  chief  magistrate 
was  weak.  But  no  matter ;  weak  or  strong,  it  suited  Stave 
ly.  Stavely  was  immediately  elected  to  the  vacant  magis 
tracy  ;  and,  oozing  reform  from  every  pore,  he  went  vigor 
ously  to  work.  In  no  long  time  religious  services  raged 
everywhere  and  unceasingly.  By  command,  the  second 
prayer  of  the  Sunday  morning  service,  which  had  custom 
arily  endured  some  thirty -five  or  forty  minutes,  and  had 
pleaded  for  the  world,  first  by  continent  and  then  by  nation 
al  and  tribal  detail,  was  extended  to  an  hour  and  a  half,  and 
made  to  include  supplications  in  behalf  of  the  possible  peo 
ples  in  the  several  planets.  Everybody  was  pleased  with 
this ;  everybody  said,  "  Now  this  is  something  like"  By 
command,  the  usual  three  -hour  sermons  were  doubled  in 


320 

length.  The  nation  came  in  a  body  to  testify  their  gratitude 
to  the  new  magistrate.  The  old  law  forbidding  cooking  on 
the  Sabbath  was  extended  to  the  prohibition  of  eating,  also. 
By  command,  Sunday-school  was  privileged  to  spread  over 
into  the  week.  The  joy  of  all  classes  was  complete.  In  one 
short  month  the  new  magistrate  had  become  the  people's 
idol! 

The  time  was  ripe  for  this  man's  next  move.  He  began, 
cautiously  at  first,  to  poison  the  public  mind  against  Eng 
land.  He  took  the  chief  citizens  aside,  one  by  one,  and 
conversed  with  them  on  this  topic.  Presently  he  grew  bold 
er,  and  spoke  out.  He  said  the  nation  owed  it  to  itself,  to 
its  honor,  to  its  great  traditions,  to  rise  in  its  might  and 
throw  off  "  this  galling  English  yoke." 

But  the  simple  islanders  answered — 

"  We  had  not  noticed  that  it  galled.  How  does  it  gall  ? 
England  sends  a  ship  once  in  three  or  four  years  to  give  us 
soap  and  clothing,  and  things  which  we  sorely  need  and 
gratefully  receive ;  but  she  never  troubles  us  ;  she  lets  us  go 
our  own  way." 

"  She  lets  you  go  your  own  way  !  So  slaves  have  felt  and 
spoken  in  all  the  ages !  This  speech  shows  how  fallen  you 
are,  how  base,  how  brutalized,  you  have  become,  under  this 
grinding  tyranny !  What !  has  all  manly  pride  forsaken 
you?  Is  liberty  nothing?  Are  you  content  to  be  a  mere 
appendage  to  a  foreign  and  hateful  sovereignty,  when  you 
might  rise  up  and  take  your  rightful  place  in  the  august 
family  of  nations,  great,  free,  enlightened,  independent,  the 
minion  of  no  sceptred  master,  but  the  arbiter  of  your  own 
destiny,  and  a  voice  and  a  power  in  decreeing  the  destinies 
of  your  sister-sovereignties  of  the  world  ?" 

Speeches  like  this  produced  an  effect  by-and-by.  Citizens 
began  to  feel  the  English  yoke ;  they  did  not  know  exactly 
how  or  whereabouts  they  felt  it,  but  they  were  perfectly  cer- 


321 

tain  they  did  feel  it.  They  got  to  grumbling  a  good  deal, 
and  chafing  under  their  chain^  and  longing  for  relief  and 
release.  They  presently  fell  to  hating  the  English  flag,  that 
sign  and  symbol  of  their  nation's  degradation;  they  ceased 
to  glance  up  at  it  as  they  passed  the  capitol,  but  averted 
their  eyes  and  grated  their  teeth;  and  one  morning,  when 
it  was  found  trampled  into  the  mud  at  the  foot  of  the  staff, 
they  left  it  there,  and  no  man  put  his  hand  to  it  to  hoist  it 
again.  A  certain  thing  which  was  sure  to  happen  sooner  or 
later  happened  now.  Some  of  the  chief  citizens  went  to  the 
magistrate  by  night,  and  said — 

"  We  can  endure  this  hated  tyranny  no  longer.  How  can 
we  cast  it  off?" 

"  By  a  coup  d'etat. 

"How?" 

"  A  coup  d'etat.  It  is  like  this  :  everything  is  got  ready, 
and  at  the  appointed  moment  I,  as  the  official  head  of  the 
nation,  publicly  and  solemnly  proclaim  its  independence, 
and  absolve  it  from  allegiance  to  any  and  all  other  powers 
whatsoever." 

"  That  sounds  simple  and  easy.  We  can  do  that  right 
away.  Then  what  will  be  the  next  thing  to  do  ?" 

"  Seize  all  the  defences  and  public  properties  of  all  kinds, 
establish  martial  law,  put  the  army  and  navy  on  a  war  foot 
ing,  and  proclaim  the  empire  !" 

This  fine  programme  dazzled  these  innocents.  They 
said — 

"This  is  grand — this  is  splendid;  but  will  not  England 
resist  ?" 

"  Let  her.     This  rock  is  a  Gibraltar." 

"  True.  But  about  the  empire  ?  Do  we  need  an  empire, 
and  an  emperor?" 

"What  you  need,  my  friends,  is  unification.  Look  at 
Germany  ;  look  at  Italy.  They  are  unified.  Unification  is 


322 

the  thing.  It  makes  living  dear.  That  constitutes  progress. 
We  must  have  a  standing  army,  and  a  navy.  Taxes  follow, 
as  a  matter  of  course.  All  these  things  summed  up  make 
grandeur.  With  unification  and  grandeur,  what  more  can 
you  want?  Very  well  —  only  the  empire  can  confer  these 
boons." 

So  on  the  8th  day  of  December  Pitcairn's  Island  was 
proclaimed  a  free  and  independent  nation  ;  and  on  the 
same  day  the  solemn  coronation  of  Butterworth  I.,  emperor 
of  Pitcairn's  Island,  took  place,  amid  great  rejoicings  and 
festivities.  The  entire  nation,  with  the  exception  of  four 
teen  persons,  mainly  little  children,  marched  past  the  throne 
in  single  file,  with  banners  and  music,  the  procession  being 
upwards  of  ninety  feet  long ;  and  some  said  it  was  as  much 
as  three-quarters  of  a  minute  passing  a  given  point.  Noth 
ing  like  it  had  ever  been  seen  in  the  history  of  the  island 
before.  Public  enthusiasm  was  measureless. 

Now  straightway  imperial  reforms  began.  Orders  of  no 
bility  were  instituted.  A  minister  of  the  navy  was  appoint 
ed,  and  the  whale-boat  put  in  commission.  A  minister  of 
war  was  created,  and  ordered  to  proceed  at  once  with  the 
formation  of  a  standing  army.  A  first  lord  of  the  treasury 
was  named,  and  commanded  to  get  up  a  taxation  scheme, 
and  also  open  negotiations  for  treaties,  offensive,  defen 
sive,  and  commercial,  with  foreign  powers.  Some  generals 
and  admirals  were  appointed ;  also  some  chamberlains, 
some  equerries  in  waiting,  and  some  lords  of  the  bed 
chamber. 

At  this  point  all  the  material  was  used  up.  The  Grand 
Duke  of  Galilee,  minister  of  war,  complained  that  all  the 
sixteen  grown  men  in  the  empire  had  been  given  great 
offices,  and  consequently  would  not  consent  to  serve  in  the 
ranks;  wherefore  his  standing  army  was  at  a  stand-still. 
The  Marquis  of  Ararat,  minister  of  the  navy,  made  a  simi- 


323 

lar  complaint.  He  said  he  was  willing  to  steer  the  whale- 
boat  himself,  but  he  must  have  somebody  to  man  her. 

The  emperor  did  the  best  he  could  in  the  circumstances : 
he  took  all  the  boys  above  the  age  of  ten  years  away  from 
their  mothers,  and  pressed  them  into  the  army,  thus  con 
structing  a  corps  of  seventeen  privates,  officered  by  one 
lieutenant-general  and  two  major-generals.  This  pleased 
the  minister  of  war,  but  procured  the  enmity  of  all  the 
mothers  in  the  land ;  for  they  said  their  precious  ones 
must  now  find  bloody  graves  in  the  fields  of  war,  and  he 
would  be  answerable  for  it.  Some  of  the  more  heart 
broken  and  inappeasable  among  them  lay  constantly  in 
wait  for  the  emperor  and  threw  yams  at  him,  unmindful  of 
the  body-guard. 

On  account  of  the  extreme  scarcity  of  material,  it  was 
found  necessary  to  require  the  Duke  of  Bethany,  postmas 
ter-general,  to  pull  stroke-oar  in  the  navy,  and  thus  sit  in 
the  rear  of  a  noble  of  lower  degree,  namely,  Viscount  Ca 
naan,  lord-justice  of  the  common  pleas.  This  turned  the 
Duke  of  Bethany  into  a  tolerably  open  malcontent  and  a 
secret  conspirator  —  a  thing  which  the  emperor  foresaw,  but 
could  not  help. 

Things  went  from  bad  to  worse.  The  emperor  raised 
Nancy  Peters  to  the  peerage  on  one  day,  and  married  her 
the  next,  notwithstanding,  for  reasons  of  state,  the  cabinet 
had  strenuously  advised  him  to  marry  Emmeline,  eldest 
daughter  of  the  Archbishop  of  Bethlehem.  This  caused 
trouble  in  a  powerful  quarter  —  the  church.  The  new  em 
press  secured  the  support  and  friendship  of  two-thirds  of 
the  thirty-six  grown  women  in  the  nation  by  absorbing  them 
into  her  court  as  maids  of  honor;  but  this  made  deadly 
enemies  of  the  remaining  twelve.  The  families  of  the  maids 
of  honor  soon  began  to  rebel,  because  there  was  nobody  at 
home  to  keep  house.  The  twelve  snubbed  women  refused 


324 

to  enter  the  imperial  kitchen  as  servants ;  so  the  empress 
had  to  require  the  Countess  of  Jericho  and  other  great  court 
dames  to  fetch  water,  sweep  the  palace,  and  perform  other 
menial  and  equally  distasteful  services.  This  made  bad 
blood  in  that  department. 

Everybody  fell  to  complaining  that  the  taxes  levied  for 
the  support  of  the  army,  the  navy,  and  the  rest  of  the  im 
perial  establishment  were  intolerably  burdensome,  and 
were  reducing  the  nation  to  beggary.  The  emperor's  re 
ply — "Look  at  Germany;  look  at  Italy.  Are  you  better 
than  they?  and  haven't  you  unification  ?" — did  not  satisfy 
them.  They  said,  "  People  can't  eat  unification,  and  we  are 
starving.  Agriculture  has  ceased.  Everybody  is  in  the 
army,  everybody  is  in  the  navy,  everybody  is  in  the  public 
service,  standing  around  in  a  uniform,  with  nothing  what 
ever  to  do,  nothing  to  eat,  and  nobody  to  till  the  fields — 

"  Look  at  Germany ;  look  at  Italy.  It  is  the  same  there. 
Such  is  unification,  and  there's  no  other  way  to  get  it — no 
other  way  to  keep  it  after  you've  got  it,"  said  the  poor  em 
peror  always. 

But  the  grumblers  only  replied,  "  We  can't  stand  the  tax 
es — we  can't  stand  them." 

Now  right  on  top  of  this  the  cabinet  reported  a  national 
debt  amounting  to  upwards  of  forty-five  dollars  —  half  a 
dollar  to  every  individual  in  the  nation.  And  they  pro 
posed  td  fund  something.  They  had  heard  that  this  was 
always  done  in  such  emergencies.  They  proposed  duties 
on  exports  ;  also  on  imports.  And  they  wanted  to  issue 
bonds ;  also  paper  money,  redeemable  in  yams  and  cab 
bages  in  fifty  years.  They  said  the  pay  of  the  army  and 
of  the  navy  and  of  the  whole  governmental  machine  was 
far  in  arrears,  and  unless  something  was  done,  and  done 
immediately,  national  bankruptcy  must  ensue,  and  possibly 
insurrection  and  revolution.  The  emperor  at  once  re- 


325 

solved  upon  a  high-handed  measure,  and  one  of  a  nature 
never  before  heard  of  in  Pitcairn's  Island.  He  went  in 
state  to  the  church  on  Sunday  morning,  with  the  army  at 
his  back,  and  commanded  the  minister  of  the  treasury  to 
take  up  a  collection. 

That  was  the  feather  that  broke  the  camel's  back.  First 
one  citizen,  and  then  another,  rose  and  refused  to  submit  to 
this  unheard-of  outrage — and  each  refusal  was  followed  by 
the  immediate  confiscation  of  the  malcontent's  property. 
This  vigor  soon  stopped  the  refusals,  and  the  collection 
proceeded  amid  a  sullen  and  ominous  silence.  As  the  em 
peror  withdrew  with  the  troops,  he  said,  "  I  will  teach  you 
who  is  master  here."  Several  persons  shouted,  "  Down  with 
unification  !"  They  were  at  once  arrested  and  torn  from 
the  arms  of  their  weeping  friends  by  the  soldiery. 

But  in  the  mean  time,  as  any  prophet  might  have  fore 
seen,  a  Social  Democrat  had  been  developed.  As  the  em 
peror  stepped  into  the  gilded  imperial  wheelbarrow  at  the 
church  door,  the  social  democrat  stabbed  at  him  fifteen  or 
sixteen  times  with  a  harpoon,  but  fortunately  with  such  a 
peculiarly  social  democratic  unprecision  of  aim  as  to  do  no 
damage. 

That  very  night  the  convulsion  came.  The  nation  rose 
as  one  man — though  forty-nine  of  the  revolutionists  were 
of  the  other  sex.  The  infantry  threw  down  their  pitch 
forks  ;  the  artillery  cast  aside  their  cocoa-nuts ;  the  navy 
revolted;  the  emperor  was  seized,  and  bound  hand  and 
foot  in  his  palace.  He  was  very  much  depressed.  He 
said — 

"I  freed  you  from  a  grinding  tyranny;  I  lifted  you  up 
out  of  your  degradation,  and  made  you  a  nation  among 
nations;  I  gave  you  a  strong,  compact,  centralized  gov 
ernment  ;  and,  more  than  all,  I  gave  you  the  blessing  of 
blessings, — unification.  I  have  done  all  this,  and  my  re- 


ward  is  hatred,  insult,  and  these  bonds.  Take  me ;  do 
with  me  as  ye  will.  I  here  resign  my  crown  and  all  my 
dignities,  and  gladly  do  I  release  myself  from  their  too  . 
heavy  burden.  For  your  sake  I  took  them  up ;  for  your 
sake  I  lay  them  down.  The  imperial  jewel  is  no  more  : 
now  bruise  and  defile  as  ye  will  the  useless  setting." 

By  a  unanimous  voice  the  people  condemned  the  ex- 
emperor  and  the  social  democrat  to  perpetual  banishment 
from  church  services,  or  to  perpetual  labor  as  galley-slaves 
in  the  whale-boat — whichever  they  might  prefer.  The  next 
day  the  nation  assembled  again,  and  rehoisted  the  British 
flag,  reinstated  the  British  tyranny,  reduced  the  nobility  to 
the  condition  of  commoners  again,  and  then  straightway 
turned  their  diligent  attention  to  the  weeding  of  the  ruined 
and  neglected  yam  patches,  and  the  rehabilitation  of  the 
old  useful  industries  and  the  old  healing  and  solacing 
pieties.  The  ex-emperor  restored  the  lost  trespass  law,  and 
explained  that  he  had  stolen  it — not  to  injure  any  one,  but 
to  further  his  political  projects.  Therefore  the  nation  gave 
the  late  chief  magistrate  his  office  again,  and  also  his  alien 
ated  property. 

Upon  reflection,  the  ex-emperor  and  the  social  democrat 
chose  perpetual  banishment  from  religious  services  in  pref 
erence  to  perpetual  labor  as  galley-slaves  "with  perpetual 
religious  services,"  as  they  phrased  it;  wherefore  the  people 
believed  that  the  poor  fellows'  troubles  had  unseated  their 
reason,  and  so  they  judged  it  best  to  confine  them  for  the 
present.  Which  they  did. 

Such  is  the  history  of  Pitcairn's  "  doubtful  acquisition." 


ON  THE  DECAY  OF  THE  ART  OF 
LYING 

ESSAY,  FOR    DISCUSSION,  READ  AT   A    MEETING    OF    THE    HIS 
TORICAL  AND   ANTIQUARIAN   CLUB  OF    HARTFORD,  AND 

OFFERED    FOR    THE    THIRTY -DOLLAR    PRIZE.       NOW   FIRST 
PUBLISHED.* 


OBSERVE,  I  do  not  mean  to  suggest  that  the  custom  of 
lying  has  suffered  any  decay  or  interruption — no,  for  the 
Lie,  as  a  Virtue,  a  Principle,  is  eternal ;  the  Lie,  as  a  rec 
reation,  a  solace,  a  refuge  in  time  of  need,  the  fourth 
Grace,  the  tenth  Muse,  man's  best  and  surest  friend,  is 
immortal,  and  cannot  perish  from  the  earth  while  this  Club 
remains.  My  complaint  simply  concerns  the  decay  of  the 
art  of  lying.  No  high-minded  man,  no  man  of  right  feel 
ing,  can  contemplate  the  lumbering  and  slovenly  lying  of 
the  present  day  without  grieving  to  see  a  noble  art  so  pros 
tituted.  In  this  veteran  presence  I  naturally  enter  upon 
this  theme  with  diffidence  ;  it  is  like  an  old  maid  trying  to 
teach  nursery  matters  to  the  mothers  in  Israel.  It  would 
not  become  me  to  criHcise  you,  gentlemen,  who  are  nearly 
all  my  elders — and  my  superiors,  in  this  thing — and  so,  if  I 
should  here  and  there  seem  to  do  it,  I  trust  it  will  in  most 
cases  be  more  in  a  spirit  of  admiration  than  of  fault-finding  \ 

*  Did  not  take  the  prize. 


J28_ 

indeed  if  this  finest  of  the  fine  arts  had  everywhere  received 
the  attention,  encouragement,  and  conscientious  practice 
and  development  which  this  Club  has  devoted  to  it,  I 
should  not  need  to  utter  this  lament,  or  shed  a  single  tear. 
I  do  not  say  this  to  flatter :  I  say  it  in  a  spirit  of  just  and 
appreciative  recognition.  [It  had  been  my  intention,  at  this 
point,  to  mention  names  and  give  illustrative  specimens, 
but  indications  observable  about  me  admonished  me  to  be 
ware  of  particulars  and  confine  myself  to  generalities.] 

No  fact  is  more  firmly  established  than  that  lying  is  a 
necessity  of  our  circumstances  —  the  deduction  that  it  is 
then  a  Virtue  goes  without  saying.  No  virtue  can  reach 
its  highest  usefulness  without  careful  and  diligent  cultiva 
tion —  therefore,  it  goes  without  saying,  that  this  one  ought 
to  be  taught  in  the  public  schools — at  the  fireside — even  in 
the  newspapers.  What  chance  has  the  ignorant,  unculti 
vated  liar  against  the  educated  expert  ?  What  chance  have 
I  against  Mr.  Per — against  a  lawyer?  Judicious  lying  is 
what  the  world  needs.  I  sometimes  think  it  were  even 
better  and  safer  not  to  lie  at  all  than  to  lie  injudiciously. 
An  awkward,  unscientific  lie  is  often  as  ineffectual  as  the 
truth. 

Now  let  us  see  what  the  philosophers  say.  Note  that  ven 
erable  proverb  :  Children  and  fools  always  speak  the  truth. 
The  deduction  is  plain  —  adults  and  wise  persons  never 
speak  it.  Parkman,  the  historian,  says,  "The  principle  of 
truth  may  itself  be  carried  into  an  absurdity."  In  another 
place  in  the  same  chapter  he  says,  "The  saying  is  old  that 
truth  should  not  be  spoken  at  all  times ;  and  those  whom  a 
sick  conscience  worries  into  habitual  violation  of  the  maxim 
are  imbeciles  and  nuisances."  It  is  strong  language,  but 
true.  None  of  us  could  live  with  an  habitual  truth-teller ; 
but  thank  goodness  none  of  us  has  to.  An  habitual  truth- 
teller  is  simply  an  impossible  creature;  he  does  not  exist ,• 


he  never  has  existed.  Of  course  there  are  people  who 
think  they  never  lie,  but  it  is  not  so — and  this  ignorance  is 
one  of  the  very  things  that  shame  our  so-called  civilization. 
Everybody  lies  —  every  day;  every  hour;  awake;  asleep; 
in  his  dreams ;  in  his  joy  ;  in  his  mourning;  if  he  keeps  his 
tongue  still,  his  hands,  his  feet,  his  eyes,  his  attitude,  will 
convey  deception — and  purposely.  Even  in  sermons — but 
that  is  a  platitude. 

In  a  far  country  where  I  once  lived  the  ladies  used  to  go 
around  paying  calls,  under  the  humane  and  kindly  pretence 
of  wanting  to  see  each  other  ;  and  when  they  returned  home, 
they  would  cry  out  with  a  glad  voice,  saying,  "  We  made  six 
teen  calls  and  found  fourteen  of  them  out"  —  not  meaning 
that  they  found  out  anything  against  the  fourteen  —  no, 
that  was  only  a  colloquial  phrase  to  signify  that  they  were 
not  at  home  —  and  their  manner  of  saying  it  expressed  their 
lively  satisfaction  in  that  fact.  Now  their  pretence  of  want 
ing  to  see  the  fourteen — and  the  other  two  whom  they  had 
been  less  lucky  with — was  that  commonest  and  mildest 
form  of  lying  which  is  sufficiently  described  as  a  deflection 
from  the  truth.  Is  it  justifiable  ?  Most  certainly.  It  is 
beautiful,  it  is  noble ;  for  its  object  is,  not  to  reap  profit, 
but  to  convey  a  pleasure  to  the  sixteen.  The  iron-souled 
truth-monger  would  plainly  manifest,  or  even  utter  the  fact 
that  he  didn't  want  to  see  those  people  —  and  he  would  be 
an  ass,  and  inflict  a  totally  unnecessary  pain.  And  next, 
those  ladies  in  that  far  country — but  never  mind,  they  had 
a  thousand  pleasant  ways  of  lying,  that  grew  out  of  gentle 
impulses,  and  were  a  credit  to  their  intelligence  and  an 
honor  to  their  hearts.  Let  the  particulars  go. 

The  men  in  that  far  country  were  liars,  every  one.  Their 
mere  howdy-do  was  a  lie,  because  they  didn't  care  how  you 
did,  except  they  were  undertakers.  To  the  ordinary  in 
quirer  you  lied  in  return ;  for  you  made  no  conscientious 


33Q 

diagnosis  of  your  case,  but  answered  at  random,  and  usu 
ally  missed  it  considerably.  You  lied  to  the  undertaker, 
and  said  your  health  was  failing — a  wholly  commendable 
lie,  since  it  cost  you  nothing  and  pleased  the  other  man. 
If  a  stranger  called  and  interrupted  you,  you  said  with 
your  hearty  tongue,  "  I'm  glad  to  see  you,"  and  said  with 
your  heartier  soul,  "  I  wish  you  were  with  the  cannibals 
and  it  was  dinner-time."  When  he  went,  you  said  regret 
fully,  "Must  you  go  ?"  and  followed  it  with  a  "  Call  again  ;" 
but  you  did  no  harm,  for  you  did  not  deceive  anybody  nor 
inflict  any  hurt, whereas  the  truth  would  have  made  you  both 
unhappy. 

I  think  that  all  this  courteous  lying  is  a  sweet  and  loving 
art,  and  should  be  cultivated.  The  highest  perfection  of 
politeness  is  only  a  beautiful  edifice,  built,  from  the  base  to 
the  dome,  of  graceful  and  gilded  forms  of  charitable  and 
unselfish  lying. 

What  I  bemoan  is  the  growing  prevalence  of  the  brutal 
truth.  Let  us  do  what  we  can  to  eradicate  it.  An  injurious 
truth  has  no  merit  over  an  injurious  lie.  Neither  should 
ever  be  uttered.  The  man  who  speaks  an  injurious  truth 
lest  his  soul  be  not  saved  if  he  do  otherwise,  should  reflect 
that  that  sort  of  a  soul  is  not  strictly  worth  saving.  The 
man  who  tells  a  lie  to  help  a  poor  devil  out  of  trouble,  is 
one  of  whom  the  angels  doubtless  say,  "  Lo,  here  is  an 
heroic  soul  who  casts  his  own  welfare  into  jeopardy  to  suc 
cor  his  neighbor's ;  let  us  exalt  this  magnanimous  liar." 

An  injurious  lie  is  an  uncommendable  thing;  and  so,  also, 
and  in  the  same  degree,  is  an  injurious  truth  —  a  fact  which 
is  recognized  by  the  law  of  libel. 

Among  other  common  lies,  we  have  the  silent  lie — the 
deception  which  one  conveys  by  simply  keeping  still  and 
concealing  the  truth.  Many  obstinate  truth-mongers  indulge 
in  this  dissipation,  imagining  that  if  they  speak  no  lie,  they 


331 

lie  not  at  all.  In  that  far  country  where  I  once  lived,  there 
was  a  lovely  spirit,  a  lady  whose  impulses  were  always  high 
and  pure,  and  whose  character  answered  to  them.  One  day 
I  was  there  at  dinner,  and  remarked,  in  a  general  way,  that 
we  are  all  liars.  She  was  amazed,  and  said,  "Not  all?"  It 
was  before  "Pinafore's"  time,  so  I  did  not  make  the  re 
sponse  which  would  naturally  follow  in  our  day,  but  frankly 
said,  "Yes,  all — we  are  all  liars;  there  are  no  exceptions." 
She  looked  almost  offended,  and  said,  "  Why,  do  you  include 
me?"  "  Certainly,"  I  said,  "  I  think  you  even  rank  as  an  ex 
pert."  She  said,  "'Sh— 'sh!  the  children!"  So  the  subject 
was  changed  in  deference  to  the  children's  presence,  and 
we  went  on  talking  about  other  things.  But  as  soon  as  the 
young  people  were  out  of  the  way,  the  lady  came  warmly 
back  to  the  matter  and  said,  "I  have  made  it  the  rule  of  my 
life  to  never  tell  a  lie  ;  and  I  have  never  departed  from  it  in 
a  single  instance."  I  said,  "  I  don't  mean  the  least  harm  or 
disrespect,  but  really  you  have  been  lying  like  smoke  ever 
since  I've  been  sitting  here.  It  has  caused  me  a  good  deal 
of  pain,  because  I  am  not  used  to  it."  She  required  of  me 
an  instance — just  a  single  instance.  So  I  said — 

"  Well,  here  is  the  unfilled  duplicate  of  the  blank  which 
the  Oakland  hospital  people  sent  to  you  by  the  hand  of  the 
sick-nurse  when  she  came  here  to  nurse  your  little  nephew 
through  his  dangerous  illness.  This  blank  asks  all  manner  of 
questions  as  to  the  conduct  of  that  sick-nurse :  '  Did  she  ever 
sleep  on  her  watch  ?  Did  she  ever  forget  to  give  the  medi 
cine  ?'  and  so  forth  and  so  on.  You  are  warned  to  be  very 
careful  and  explicit  in  your  answers,  for  the  welfare  of  the 
service  requires  that  the  nurses  be  promptly  fined  or  other 
wise  punished  for  derelictions.  You  told  me  you  were  per 
fectly  delighted  with  that  nurse — that  she  had  a  thousand 
perfections  and  only  one  fault:  you  found  you  never  could 
depend  on  her  wrapping  Johnny  up  half  sufficiently  while  he 


332 

waited  in  a  chilly  chair  for  her  to  rearrange  the  warm  bed. 
You  filled  up  the  duplicate  of  this  paper,  and  sent  it  back 
to  the  hospital  by  the  hand  of  the  nurse.  How  did  you 
answer  this  question — '  Was  the  nurse  at  any  time  guilty 
of  a  negligence  which  was  likely  to  result. in  the  patient's 
taking  cold  ?'  Come — everything  is  decided  by  a  bet  here 
in  California:  ten  dollars  to  ten  cents  you  lied  when  you 
answered  that  question."  She  said,  "  I  didn't ;  /  left  it 
blank!"  "  Just  so— you  have  told  a  silent  lie ;  you  have  left  it 
to  be  inferred  that  you  had  no  fault  to  find  in  that  matter." 
She  said,  "  Oh,  was  that  a  lie  ?  And  how  could  I  mention  her 
one  single  fault,  and  she  so  good?  —  it  would  have  been 
cruel."  I  said,  "  One  ought  always  to  lie,  when  one  can  do 
good  by  it;  your  impulse  was  right,  but  your  judgment  was 
crude ;  this  comes  of  unintelligent  practice.  Now  observe 
the  result  of  this  inexpert  deflection  of  yours.  You  know 
Mr.  Jones's  Willie  is  lying  very  low  with  scarlet-fever ;  well, 
your  recommendation  was  so  enthusiastic  that  that  girl  is 
there  nursing  him,  and  the  worn-out  family  have  all  been 
trustingly  sound  asleep  for  the  last  fourteen  hours,  leaving 
their  darling  with  full  confidence  in  those  fatal  hands,  be 
cause  you,  like  young  George  Washington,  have  a  reputa — 
However,  if  you  are  not  going  to  have  anything  to  do,  I  will 
come  around  to-morrow  and  we'll  attend  the  funeral  togeth 
er,  for,  of  course,  you'll  naturally  feel  a  peculiar  interest  in 
Willie's  case — as  personal  a  one,  in  fact,  as  the  undertaker." 
But  that  was  all  lost.  Before  I  was  half-way  through  she 
was  in  a  carriage  and  making  thirty  miles  an  hour  toward 
the  Jones  mansion  to  save  what  was  left  of  Willie  and  tell 
all  she  knew  about  the  deadly  nurse.  All  of  which  was  un 
necessary,  as  Willie  wasn't  sick;  I  had  been  lying  myself. 
But  that  same  day,  all  the  same,  she  sent  a  line  to  the  hos 
pital  which  filled  up  the  neglected  blank,  and  stated  the 
facts,  too,  in  the  squarest  possible  manner. 


333 

Now,  you  see,  this  lady's  fault  was  not  in  lying,  but  only 
in  lying  injudiciously.  She  should  have  told  the  truth, 
there,  and  made  it  up  to  the  nurse  with  a  fraudulent  com 
pliment  further  along  in  the  paper.  She  could  have  said, 
11  In  one  respect  this  sick-nurse  is  perfection — when  she  is 
on  watch,  she  never  snores."  Almost  any  little  pleasant 
lie  would  have  taken  the  sting  out  of  that  troublesome  but 
necessary  expression  of  the  truth. 

Lying  is  universal  —  we  all  do  it;  we  all  must  do  it. 
Therefore,  the  wise  thing  is  for  us  diligently  to  train  our 
selves  to  lie  thoughtfully,  judiciously ;  to  lie  with  a  good 
object,  and  not  an  evil  one ;  to  lie  for  others'  advantage, 
and  not  our  own  ;  to  lie  healingly,  charitably,  humanely, 
not  cruelly,  hurtfully,  maliciously;  to  lie  gracefully  and 
graciously,  not  awkwardly  and  clumsily;  to  lie  firmly,  frank 
ly,  squarely,  with  head  erect,  not  haltingly,  tortuously,  with 
pusillanimous  mien,  as  being  ashamed  of  our  high  calling. 
Then  shall  we  be  rid  of  the  rank  and  pestilent  truth  that  is 
rotting  the  land  ;  then  shall  we  be  great  and  good  and 
beautiful,  and  worthy  dwellers  in  a  world  where  even  be 
nign  Nature  habitually  lies,  except  when  she  promises  exe 
crable  weather.  Then —  But  I  am  but  a  new  and  feeble 
student  in  this  gracious  art ;  I  cannot  instruct  this  Club. 

Joking  aside,  I  think  there  is  much  need  of  wise  exami 
nation  into  what  sorts  of  lies  are  best  and  wholesomest 
to  be  indulged,  seeing  we  must  all  lie  and  do  all  lie,  and 
what  sorts  it  may  be  best  to  avoid  —  and  this  is  a  thing 
which  I  feel  I  can  confidently  put  into  the  hands  of  this  ex. 
perienced  Club — a  ripe  body,  who  may  be  termed,  in  this 
regard,  and  without  undue  flattery,  Old  Masters. 


THE   CANVASSER'S   TALE 


POOR,  sad  -  eyed  stranger !  There  was  that  about  his 
humble  mien,  his  tired  look,  his  decayed -gentility  clothes, 
that  almost  reached  the  mustard-seed  of  charity  that  still 
remained,  remote  and  lonely,  in  the  empty  vastness  of  my 
heart,  notwithstanding  I  observed  a  portfolio  under  his  arm, 
and  said  to  myself,  Behold,  Providence  hath  delivered  his 
servant  into  the  hands  of  another  canvasser. 

Well,  these  people  always  get  one  interested.  Before  I 
well  knew  how  it  came  about,  this  one  was  telling  me  his 
history,  and  I  was  all  attention  and  sympathy.  He  told 
it  something  like  this  :— 

My  parents  died,  alas,  when  I  was  a  little,  sinless  child. 
My  uncle  Ithuriel  took  me  to  his  heart  and  reared  me  as 
his  own.  He  was  my  only  relative  in  the  wide  world ;  but 
he  was  good  and  rich  and  generous.  He  reared  me  in  the 
lap  of  luxury.  I  knew  no  want  that  money  could  satisfy. 

In  the  fulness  of  time  I  was  graduated,  and  went  with 
two  of  my  servants  —  my  chamberlain  and  my  valet  —  to 
travel  in  foreign  countries.  During  four  years  I  flitted 
upon  careless  wing  amid  the  beauteous  gardens  of  the  dis 
tant  strand,  if  you  will  permit  this  form  of  speech  in  one 
whose  tongue  was  ever  attuned  to  poesy;  and  indeed  I  so 
speak  with  confidence,  as  one  unto  his  kind,  for  I  perceive  by 
your  eyes  that  you  too,  sir,  are  gifted  with  the  divine  infla 
tion.  In  those  far  lands  I  revelled  in  the  ambrosial  food 


335 

that  fructifies  the  soul,  the  mind,  the  heart.  But  of  all 
things,  that  which  most  appealed  to  my  inborn  aesthetic 
taste  was  the  prevailing  custom  there,  among  the  rich,  of 
making  collections  of  elegant  and  costly  rarities,  dainty  ob- 
jets  de  vertu,  and  in  an  evil  hour  I  tried  to  uplift  my  uncle 
Ithuriel  to  a  plane  of  sympathy  with  this  exquisite  employ 
ment. 

I  wrote  and  told  him  of  one  gentleman's  vast  collection 
of  shells ;  another's  noble  collection  of  meerschaum  pipes ; 
another's  elevating  and  refining  collection  of  undecipherable 
autographs ;  another's  priceless  collection  of  old  china ; 
another's  enchanting  collection  of  postage-stamps — and  so 
forth  and  so  on.  Soon  my  letters  yielded  fruit.  My  uncle 
began  to  look  about  for  something  to  make  a  collection  of. 
You  may  know,  perhaps,  how  fleetly  a  taste  like  this  dilates. 
His  soon  became  a  raging  fever,  though  I  knew  it  not.  He 
began  to  neglect  his  great  pork  business ;  presently  he 
wholly  retired  and  turned  an  elegant  leisure  into  a  rabid 
search  for  curious  things.  His  wealth  was  vast,  and  he 
spared  it  not.  First  he  tried  cow  bells.  He  made  a  col 
lection  which  filled  five  large  salons,  and  comprehended  all 
the  different  sorts  of  cow-bells  that  ever  had  been  contrived, 
save  one.  That  one — an  antique,  and  the  only  specimen  ex 
tant — was  possessed  by  another  collector.  My  uncle  offered 
enormous  sums  for  it,  but  the  gentleman  would  not  sell. 
Doubtless  you  know  what  necessarily  resulted.  A  true  col 
lector  attaches  no  value  to  a  collection  that  is  not  complete. 
His  great  heart  breaks,  he  sells  his  hoard,  he  turns  his  mind 
to  some  field  that  seems  unoccupied. 

Thus  did  my  uncle.  He  next  tried  brick-bats.  After  pil 
ing  up  a  vast  and  intensely  interesting  collection,  the 
former  difficulty  supervened;  his  great  heart  broke  again; 
he  sold  out  his  soul's  idol  to  the  retired  brewer  who  pos 
sessed  the  missing  brick.  Then  he  tried  flint  hatchets  and 


336 

other  implements  of  Primeval  Man,  but  by-and-by  discov 
ered  that  the  factory  where  they  were  made  was  supplying 
other  collectors  as  well  as  himself.  He  tried  Aztec  inscrip 
tions  and  stuffed  whales — another  failure,  after  incredible 
labor  and  expense.  When  his  collection  seemed  at  last 
perfect,  a  stuffed  whale  arrived  from  Greenland  and  an 
Aztec  inscription  from  the  Cundurango  regions  of  Central 
America  that  made  all  former  specimens  insignificant.  My 
uncle  hastened  to  secure  these  noble  gems.  He  got  the 
stuffed  whale,  but  another  collector  got  the  inscription.  A 
real  Cundurango,  as  possibly  you  know,  is  a  possession  of 
such  supreme  value  that,  when  once  a  collector  gets  it,  he 
will  rather  part  with  his  family  than  with  it.  So  my  uncle 
sold  out,  and  saw  his  darlings  go  forth,  never  more  to 
return ;  and  his  coal-black  hair  turned  white  as  snow  in 
a  single  night. 

Now  he  waited,  and  thought.  He  knew  another  disap. 
pointment  might  kill  him.  He  was  resolved  that  he  would 
choose  things  next  time  that  no  other  man  was  collecting. 
He  carefully  made  up  his  mind,  and  once  more  entered  the 
field — this  time  to  make  a  collection  of  echoes. 

"Of  what?"  said  I. 

Echoes,  sir.  His  first  purchase  was  an  echo  in  Georgia 
that  repeated  four  times  ;  his  next  was  a  six-repeater  in  Mary 
land  ;  his  next  was  a  thirteen-repeater  in  Maine ;  his  next 
was  a  nine-repeater  in  Kansas  ;  his  next  was  a  twelve-repeater 
in  Tennessee,  which  he  got  cheap,  so  to  speak,  because  it 
was  out  of  repair,  a  portion  of  the  crag  which  reflected  it 
having  tumbled  down.  He  believed  he  could  repair  it  at  a 
cost  of  a  few  thousand  dollars,  and,  by  increasing  the  ele 
vation  with  masonry,  treble  the  repeating  capacity;  but 
the  architect  who  undertook  the  job  had  never  built  an 
echo  before,  and  so  he  utterly  spoiled  this  one.  Before  he 
meddled  with  it,  it  used  to  talk  back  like  a  mother-in-law, 


337 

but  now  it  was  only  fit  for  the  deaf  and  dumb  asylum. 
Well,  next  he  bought  a  lot  of  cheap  little  double-barrelled 
echoes,  scattered  around  over  various  States  and  Terri 
tories  ;  he  got  them  at  twenty  per  cent,  off  by  taking  the 
lot.  Next  he  bought  a  perfect  Gatling-gun  of  an  echo  in 
Oregon,  and  it  cost  a  fortune,  I  can  tell  you.  You  may 
know,  sir,  that  in  the  echo  market  the  scale  of  prices  is 
cumulative,  like  the  carat-scale  in  diamonds;  in  fact,  the 
same  phraseology  is  used.  A  single -carat  echo  is  worth 
but  ten  dollars  over  and  above  the  value  of  the  land  it  is 
on;  a  two -carat  or  double-barrelled  echo  is  worth  thirty 
dollars;  a  five-carat  is  worth  nine  hundred  and  fifty;  a  ten- 
carat  is  worth  thirteen  thousand.  My  uncle's  Oregon  echo, 
which  he  called  the  Great  Pitt  Echo,  was  a  twenty-two  carat 
gem,  and  cost  two  hundred  and  sixteen  thousand  dollars — 
they  threw  the  land  in,  for  it  was  four  hundred  miles  from 
a  settlement. 

Well,  in  the  meantime  my  path  was  a  path  of  roses.  I 
was  the  accepted  suitor  of  the  only  and  lovely  daughter  of 
an  English  earl,  and  was  beloved  to  distraction.  In  that 
dear  presence  I  swam  in  seas  of  bliss.  The  family  were 
content,  for  it  was  known  that  I  was  sole  heir  to  an  uncle 
held  to  be  worth  five  millions  of  dollars.  However,  none 
of  us  knew  that  my  uncle  had  become  a  collector,  at  least 
in  anything  more  than  a  small  way,  for  aesthetic  amuse 
ment. 

Now  gathered  the  clouds  above  my  unconscious  head. 
That  divine  echo,  since  known  throughout  the  world  as  the 
Great  Koh-i-noor,  or  Mountain  of  Repetitions,  was  discov 
ered.  It  was  a  sixty-five-carat  gem.  You  could  utter  a 
word  and  it  would  talk  back  at  you  for  fifteen  minutes, 
when  the  day  was  otherwise  quiet.  But  behold,  another 
fact  came  to  light  at  the  same  time :  another  echo-collector 
was  in  the  field.  The  two  rushed  to  make  the  peerless  pur- 


338 

chase.  The  property  consisted  of  a  couple  of  small  hills 
with  a  shallow  swale  between,  out  yonder  among  the  back 
settlements  of  New  York  State.  Both  men  arrived  on  the 
ground  at  the  same  time,  and  neither  knew  the  other  was 
there.  The  echo  was  not  all  owned  by  one  man  ;  a  person 
by  the  name  of  Williamson  Bolivar  Jarvis  owned  the  east 
hill,  and  a  person  by  the  name  of  Harbison  J.  Bledso 
owned  the  west  hill ;  the  swale  between  was  the  dividing 
line.  So  while  my  uncle  was  buying  Jarvis's  hill  for  three 
million  two  hundred  and  eighty-five  thousand  dollars,  the 
other  party  was  buying  Bledso's  hill  for  a  shade  over  three 
million. 

Now,  do  you  perceive  the  natural  result  ?  Why,  the  no 
blest  collection  of  echoes  on  earth  was  forever  and  ever  in 
complete,  since  it  possessed  but  the  one-half  of  the  king 
echo  of  the  universe.  Neither  man  was  content  with  this 
divided  ownership,  yet  neither  would  sell  to  the  other. 
There  were  jawings,  bickerings,  heart- burnings.  And  at 
last  that  other  collector,  with  a  malignity  which  only  a  col 
lector  can  ever  feel  toward  a  man  and  a  brother,  proceeded 
to  cut  down  his  hill ! 

You  see,  as  long  as  he  could  not  have  the  echo,  he  was 
resolved  that  nobody  should  have  it.  He  would  remove 
his  hill,  and  then  there  would  be  nothing  to  reflect  my  un 
cle's  echo.  My  uncle  remonstrated  with  him,  but  the  man 
said,  "  I  own  one  end  of  this  echo;  I  choose  to  kill  my  end; 
you  must  take  care  of  your  own  end  yourself." 

Well,  my  uncle  got  an  injunction  put  on  him.  The  other 
man  appealed  and  fought  it  in  a  higher  court.  They  car 
ried  it  on  up,  clear  to  the  Supreme  Court  of  the  United 
States.  It  made  no  end  of  trouble  there.  Two  of  the 
judges  believed  that  an  echo  was  personal  property,  be 
cause  it  was  impalpable  to  sight  and  touch,  and  yet  was  pur 
chasable,  salable,  and  consequently  taxable  ;  two  others  be- 


339 

lieved  that  an  echo  was  real  estate,  because  it  was  mani 
festly  attached  to  the  land,  and  was  not  removable  from 
place  to  place ;  other  of  the  judges  contended  that  an  echo 
was  not  property  at  all. 

It  was  finally  decided  that  the  echo  was  property;  that 
the  hills  were  property ;  that  the  two  men  were  separate 
and  independent  owners  of  the  two  hills,  but  tenants  in 
common  in  the  echo ;  therefore  defendant  was  at  full  lib 
erty  to  cut  down  his  hill,  since  it  belonged  solely  to  him, 
but  must  give  bonds  in  three  million  dollars  as  indemnity 
for  damages  which  might  result  to  my  uncle's  half  of  the 
echo.  This  decision  also  debarred  my  uncle  from  using 
defendant's  hill  to  reflect  his  part  of  the  echo,  without  de 
fendant's  consent;  he  must  use  only  his  own  hill;  if  his 
part  of  the  echo  would  not  go,  under  these  circumstances, 
it  was  sad,  of  course,  but  the  court  could  find  no  remedy. 
The  court  also  debarred  defendant  from  using  my  uncle's 
hill  to  reflect  his  end  of  the  echo,  without  consent.  You 
see  the  grand  result !  Neither  man  would  give  consent, 
and  so  that  astonishing  and  most  noble  echo  had  to  cease 
from  its  great  powers ;  and  since  that  day  that  magnificent 
property  is  tied  up  and  unsalable. 

A  week  before  my  wedding-day,  while  I  was  still  swim 
ming  in  bliss  and  the  nobility  were  gathering  from  far  and 
near  to  honor  our  espousals,  came  news  of  my  uncle's 
death,  and  also  a  copy  of  his  will,  making  me  his  sole  heir. 
He  was  gone  ;  alas,  my  dear  benefactor  was  no  more.  The 
thought  surcharges  my  heart  even  at  this  remote  day.  I 
handed  the  will  to  the  earl ;  I  could  not  read  it  for  the 
blinding  tears.  The  earl  read  it ;  then  he  sternly  said,  "  Sir, 
do  you  call  this  wealth? — but  doubtless  you  do  in  your  in 
flated  country.  Sir,  you  are  left  sole  heir  to  a  vast  collec 
tion  of  echoes — if  a  thing  can  be  called  a  collection  that  is 
scattered  far  and  wide  over  the  huge  length  and  breadth  of 


34Q 

the  American  continent ;  sir,  this  is  not  all ;  you  are  head 
and  ears  in  debt ;  there  is  not  an  echo  in  the  lot  but  has  a 
mortgage  on  it ;  sir,  I  am  not  a  hard  man,  but  I  must  look 
to  my  child's  interest;  if  you  had  but  one  echo  which  you 
could  honestly  call  your  own,  if  you  had  but  one  echo  which 
was  free  from  incumbrance,  so  that  you  could  retire  to  it 
with  my  child,  and  by  humble,  painstaking  industry,  culti 
vate  and  improve  it,  and  thus  wrest  from  it  a  maintenance, 
I  would  not  say  you  nay ;  but  I  cannot  marry  my  child  to 
a  beggar.  Leave  his  side,  my  darling;  go,  sir,  take  your 
mortgage-ridden  echoes  and  quit  my  sight  forever." 

My  noble  Celestine  clung  to  me  in  tears,  with  loving 
arms,  and  swore  she  would  willingly,  nay  gladly,  marry  me, 
though  I  had  not  an  echo  in  the  world.  But  it  could  not 
be.  We  were  torn  asunder,  she  to  pine  and  die  within  the 
twelvemonth,  I  to  toil  life's  long  journey  sad  and  lone, 
praying  daily,  hourly,  for  that  release  which  shall  join  us 
together  again  in  that  dear  realm  where  the  wicked  cease 
from  troubling  and  the  weary  are  at  rest.  Now,  sir,  if  you 
will  be  so  kind  as  to  look  at  these  maps  and  plans  in  my 
portfolio,  I  am  sure  I  can  sell  you  an  echo  for  less  money 
than  any  man  in  the  trade.  Now  this  one,  which  cost  my 
uncle  ten  dollars,  thirty  years  ago,  and  is  one  of  the  sweet 
est  things  in  Texas,  I  will  let  you  have  for — 

"  Let  me  interrupt  you,"  I  said.  "  My  friend,  I  have  not 
had  a  moment's  respite  from  canvassers  this  day.  I  have 
bought  a  sewing-machine  which  I  did  not  want ;  I  have 
bought  a  map  which  is  mistaken  in  all  its  details ;  I  have 
bought  a  clock  which  will  not  go ;  I  have  bought  a  moth 
poison  which  the  moths  prefer  to  any  other  beverage  ;  I 
have  bought  no  end  of  useless  inventions,  and  now  I  have 
had  enough  of  this  foolishness.  I  would  not  have  one  of 
your  echoes  if  you  were  even  to  give  it  to  me.  I  would  not 
let  it  stay  on  the  place.  I  always  hate  a  man  that  tries  to 


34i 

sell  me  echoes.  You  see  this  gun  ?  Now  take  your  collec 
tion  and  move  on  ;  let  us  not  have  bloodshed." 

But  he  only  smiled  a  sad,  sweet  smile,  and  got  out  some 
more  diagrams.  You  know  the  result  perfectly  well,  be 
cause  you  know  that  when  you  have  once  opened  the  door 
to  a  canvasser,  the  trouble  is  done  and  you  have  got  to 
suffer  defeat. 

I  compromised  with  this  man  at  the  end  of  an  intolerable 
hour.  I  bought  two  double-barrelled  echoes  in  good  condi 
tion,  and  he  threw  in  another,  which  he  said  was  not  salable 
because  it  only  spoke  German.  He  said,  "  She  was  a  per- 
felt  polyglot  once,  but  somehow  her  palate  got  down." 


AN  ENCOUNTER  WITH  AN  INTERVIEWER 


THE  nervous,  dapper,  "  peart "  young  man  took  the  chair 
I  offered  him,  and  said  he  was  connected  with  the  Daily 
Thunderstorm,  and  added — 

"  Hoping  it's  no  harm,  I've  come  to  interview  you." 

"  Come  to  what  ?" 

"Interview  you." 

"Ah!  I  see.     Yes— yes.     Urn !     Yes— yes." 

I  was  not  feeling  bright  that  morning.  Indeed,  my  pow 
ers  seemed  a  bit  under  a  cloud.  However,  I  went  to  the 
bookcase,  and  when  I  had  been  looking  six  or  seven  min 
utes,  I  found  I  was  obliged  to  refer  to  the  young  man.  I 
said — 

"  How  do  you  spell  it  ?" 

"Spell  what?" 

"  Interview." 

"  Oh  my  goodness  !  what  do  you  want  to  spell  it  for  ?" 

"  I  don't  want  to  spell  it ;  I  want  to  see  what  it  means." 

"  Well,  this  is  astonishing,  I  must  say.  /  can  tell  you 
what  it  means,  if  you — if  you — " 

"  Oh,  all  right !  That  will  answer,  and  much  obliged  to 
you,  too." 

"  In,  /»,  ter,  ter,  inter — " 

"  Then  you  spell  it  with  an  If 

"Why,  certainly!" 

"  Oh,  that  is  what  took  me  so  long." 


343 

"Why,  my  dear  sir,  what  did  you  propose  to  spell  it 
with  ?" 

"  Well,  I — I — hardly  know.  I  had  the  Unabridged,  and 
I  was  ciphering  around  in  the  back  end,  hoping  I  might  tree 
her  among  the  pictures.  But  it's  a  very  old  edition." 

"  Why,  my  friend,  they  wouldn't  have  a  picture  of  it  in 
even  the  latest  e —  My  dear  sir,  I  beg  your  pardon,  I 
mean  no  harm  in  the  world,  but  you  do  not  look  as — as — 
intelligent  as  I  had  expected  you  would.  No  harm  —  I 
mean  no  harm  at  all." 

"  Oh,  don't  mention  it !  It  has  often  been  said,  and  by 
people  who  would  not  flatter  and  who  could  have  no  in 
ducement  to  flatter,  that  I  am  quite  remarkable  in  that  way. 
Yes — yes  i  they  always  speak  of  it  with  rapture." 

"  I  can  easily  imagine  it.  But  about  this  interview. 
You  know  it  is  the  custom,  now,  to  interview  any  man  who 
has  become  notorious." 

"  Indeed,  I  had  not  heard  of  it  before.  It  must  be  very 
interesting.  What  do  you  do  it  with  ?" 

"  Ah,  well — well — well — this  is  disheartening.  It  ought 
to  be  done  with  a  club  in  some  cases  ;  but  customarily  it 
consists  in  the  interviewer  asking  questions  and  the  inter 
viewed  answering  them.  It  is  all  the  rage  now.  Will  you 
let  me  ask  you  certain  questions  calculated  to  bring  out  the 
salient  points  of  your  public  and  private  history?" 

"Oh,  with  pleasure  —  with  pleasure.  I  have  a  very  bad 
memory,  but  I  hope  you  will  not  mind  that.  That  is  to  say, 
it  is  an  irregular  memory — singularly  irregular.  Some 
times  it  goes  in  a  gallop,  and  then  again  it  will  be  as  much 
as  a  fortnight  passing  a  given  point.  This  is  a  great  grief 
to  me." 

"  Oh,  it  is  no  matter,  so  you  will  try  to  do  the  best  you 
can." 

"  I  will.     I  will  put  my  whole  mind  on  it." 


344 

"  Thanks.     Are  you  ready  to  begin  ?" 

"Ready." 

Q.  How  old  are  you  ? 

A.  Nineteen,  in  June. 

Q.  Indeed !  I  would  have  taken  you  to  be  thirty-five  or 
six.  Where  were  you  born  ? 

A.  In  Missouri. 

Q.  When  did  you  begin  to  write  ? 

A.  In  1836. 

Q.  Why,  how  could  that  be,  if  you  are  only  nineteen 
now? 

A.  I  don't  know.     It  does  seem  curious,  somehow. 

Q.  It  does,  indeed.  Whom  do  you  consider  the  most 
remarkable  man  you  ever  met  ? 

A.  Aaron  Burr. 

Q.  But  you  never  could  have  met  Aaron  Burr,  if  you  are 
only  nineteen  years — 

A.  Now,  if  you  know  more  about  me  than  I  do,  what  do 
you  ask  me  for  ? 

Q.  Well,  it  was  only  a  suggestion ;  nothing  more.  How 
did  you  happen  to  meet  Burr? 

A.  Well,  I  happened  to  be  at  his  funeral  one  day,  and 
he  asked  me  to  make  less  noise,  and — 

Q.  But,  good  heavens !  if  you  were  at  his  funeral,  he 
must  have  been  dead ;  and  if  he  was  dead,  how  could  he 
care  whether  you  made  a  noise  or  not  ? 

A.  I  don't  know.  He  was  always  a  particular  kind  of 
a  man  that  way. 

Q.  Still,  I  don't  understand  it  at  all.  You  say  he  spoke 
to  you,  and  that  he  was  dead. 

A.  I  didn't  say  he  was  dead. 

Q.  But  wasn't  he  dead  ? 

A.  Well,  some  said  he  was,  some  said  he  wasn't. 

Q.  What  did  you  think  ? 


345 

A.  Oh,  it  was  none  of  my  business !  It  wasn't  any  of 
my  funeral. 

Q.  Did  you —  However,  we  can  never  get  this  matter 
straight.  Let  me  ask  about  something  else.  What  was  the 
date  of  your  birth  ? 

A.  Monday,  October  3ist,  1693. 

Q.  What !  Impossible !  That  would  make  you  a  hun 
dred  and  eighty  years  old.  How  do  you  account  for  that  ? 

A.  I  don't  account  for  it  at  all. 

Q.  But  you  said  at  first  you  were  only  nineteen,  and  now 
you  make  yourself  out  to  be  one  hundred  and  eighty.  It 
is  an  awful  discrepancy. 

A.  Why,  have  you  noticed  that?  (Shaking  hands.) 
Many  a  time  it  has  seemed  to  me  like  a  discrepancy,  but 
somehow  I  couldn't  make  up  my  mind.  How  quick  you 
notice  a  thing ! 

Q.  Thank  you  for  the  compliment,  as  far  as  it  goes. 
Had  you,  or  have  you,  any  brothers  or  sisters  ? 

A.  Eh!  I — I — I  think  so — yes  —  but  I  don't  remem 
ber. 

Q.  Well,  that  is  the  most  extraordinary  statement  I  ever 
heard ! 

A.  Why,  what  makes  you  think  that  ? 

Q.  How  could  I  think  otherwise?  Why,  look  here! 
Who  is  this  a  picture  of  on  the  wall  ?  Isn't  that  a  brother 
of  yours  ? 

A.  Oh  !  yes,  yes,  yes  !  Now  you  remind  me  of  it ;  that 
was  a  brother  of  mine.  That's  Williarp  —  Bill  we  called 
him.  Poor  old  Bill ! 

<2.  Why?     Is  he  dead,  then? 

A.  Ah !  well,  I  suppose  so.  We  never  could  tell.  There 
was  a  great  mystery  about  it. 

Q.  That  is  sad,  very  sad.     He  disappeared,  then  ? 

A.  Well,  yes,  in  a  sort  of  general  way.     We  buried  him. 


346 

Q.  Buried  him  !  Buried  him,  without  knowing  whether 
he  was  dead  or  not  ? 

A.  Oh,  no  !     Not  that.     He  was  dead  enough. 

Q.  Well,  I  confess  that  I  can't  understand  this.  If  you 
buried  him,  and  you  knew  he  was  dead — 

A.  No  !  no  !     We  only  thought  he  was. 

Q.  Oh,  I  see  !     He  came  to  life  again  ? 

A.  I  bet  he  didn't. 

Q.  Well,  I  never  heard  anything  like  this.  Somebody 
was  dead.  Somebody  was  buried.  Now,  where  was  the 
mystery  ? 

A.  Ah !  that's  just  it !  That's  it  exactly.  You  see,  we 
were  twins  — defunct  and  I  —  and  we  got  mixed  in  the 
bath-tub  when  we  were  only  two  weeks  old,  and  one  of  us 
was  drowned.  But  we  didn't  know  which.  Some  think  it 
was  Bill.  Some  think  it  was  me. 

Q.  Well,  that  is  remarkable.     What  do  you  think  ! 

A.  Goodness  knows  !  I  would  give  whole  worlds  to  know. 
This  solemn,  this  awful  mystery  has  cast  a  gloom  over  my 
whole  life.  But  I  will  tell  you  a  secret  now,  which  1  never 
have  revealed  to  any  creature  before.  One  of  us  had  a 
peculiar  mark — a  large  mole  on  the  back  of  his  left  hand  ; 
that  was  me.  That  child  was  the  one  that  was  droumed ! 

Q.  Very  well,  then,  I  don't  see  that  there  is  any  mystery 
about  it,  after  all. 

A.  You  don't?  Well,  /do.  Anyway,  I  don't  see  how 
they  could  ever  have  been  such  a  blundering  lot  as  to  go 
and  bury  the  wrong  child.  But,  'sh  ! — don't  mention  it 
where  the  family  can  hear  of  it.  Heaven  knows  they  have 
heart-breaking  troubles  enough  without  adding  this. 

Q.  Well,  I  believe  I  have  got  material  enough  for  the 
present,  and  I  am  very  much  obliged  to  you  for  the  pains 
you  have  taken.  But  I  was  a  good  deal  interested  in  that 
account  of  Aaron  Burr's  funeral.  Would  you  mind  telling 


34? 

me  what  particular  circumstance  it  was  that  made  you 
think  Burr  was  such  a  remarkable  man  ? 

A.  Oh  !  it  was  a  mere  trifle !  Not  one  man  in  fifty  would 
have  noticed  it  at  all.  When  the  sermon  was  over,  and  the 
procession  all  ready  to  start  for  the  cemetery,  and  the  body 
all  arranged  nice  in  the  hearse,  he  said  he  wanted  to  take 
a  last  look  at  the  scenery,  and  so  he  %ot  up  and  rode  with 
the  driver. 

Then  the  young  man  reverently  withdrew.  He  was  very 
pleasant  company,  and  1  was  sorry  to  see  him  go. 


PARIS   NOTES* 


THE  Parisian  travels  but  little,  he  knows  no  language 
but  his  own,  reads  no  literature  but  his  own,  and  conse 
quently  he  is  pretty  narrow  and  pretty  self-sufficient.  How 
ever,  let  us  not  be  too  sweeping;  there  are  Frenchmen 
who  know  languages  not  their  own  :  these  are  the  waiters. 
Among  the  rest,  they  know  English ;  that  is,  they  know  it 
on  the  European  plan — which  is  to  say,  they  can  speak  it, 
but  can't  understand  it.  They  easily  make  themselves  un 
derstood,  but  it  is  next  to  impossible  to  word  an  English 
sentence  in  such  a  way  as  to  enable  them  to  comprehend  it. 
They  think  they  comprehend  it ;  they  pretend  they  do ;  but 
they  don't.  Here  is  a  conversation  which  I  had  with  one 
of  these  beings ;  I  wrote  it  down  at  the  time,  in  order  to 
have  it  exactly  correct. 

/  These  are  fine  oranges.     Where  are  they  grown  ? 

He.  More  ?     Yes,  I  will  bring  them. 

/.  No,  do  not  bring  any  more ;  I  only  want  to  know 
where  they  are  from — where  they  are  raised. 

He.  Yes  ?  (with  imperturbable  mien,  and  rising  inflec 
tion.) 

/.  Yes.     Can  you  tell  me  what  country  they  are  from  ? 


*  Crowded  out  of  "  A  Tramp  Abroad  "  to  make  room  for  more  vital 
statistics. — M.  T. 


349 

He.  Yes  ?  (blandly,  with  rising  inflection.) 

I.  (disheartened).     They  are  very  nice. 

He.  Good-night.  (Bows,  and  retires,  quite  satisfied  with 
himself.) 

That  young  man  could  have  become  a  good  English 
scholar  by  taking  the  right  sort  of  pains,  but  he  was  French, 
and  wouldn't  do  that.  How  different  is  the  case  with  our 
people ;  they  utilize  every  means  that  offers.  There  are 
some  alleged  French  Protestants  in  Paris,  and  they  built  a 
nice  little  church  on  one  of  the  great  avenues  that  lead 
away  from  the  Arch  of  Triumph,  and  proposed  to  listen  to 
the  correct  thing,  preached  in  the  correct  way,  there,  in 
their  precious  French  tongue,  and  be  happy.  But  their  lit 
tle  game  does  not  succeed.  Our  people  are  always  there 
ahead  of  them,  Sundays,  and  take  up  all  the  room.  When 
the  minister  gets  up  to  preach,  he  finds  his  house  full  of  de 
vout  foreigners,  each  ready  and  waiting,  with  his  little  book 
in  his  hand  —  a  morocco -bound  Testament,  apparently. 
But  only  apparently ;  it  is  Mr.  Bellows's  admirable  and  ex 
haustive  little  French-English  dictionary,  which  in  look  and 
binding  and  size  is  just  like  a  Testament  —  and  those  peo 
ple  are  there  to  study  French.  The  building  has  been  nick 
named  "The  Church  of  the  Gratis  French  Lesson." 

These  students  probably  acquire  more  language  than 
general  information,  for  I  am  told  that  a  French  sermon  is 
like  a  French  speech  —  it  never  names  an  historical  event, 
but  only  the  date  of  it ;  if  you  are  not  up  in  dates,  you  get 
left.  A  French  speech  is  something  like  this  : — 

Comrades,  citizens,  brothers,  noble  parts  of  the  only  sublime  and  per 
fect  nation,  let  us  not  forget  that  the  2ist  January  cast  off  our  chains  ; 
that  the  loth  August  relieved  us  of  the  shameful  presence  of  foreign 
spies  ;  that  the  5th  September  was  its  own  justification  before  Heaven 
and  humanity  ;  that  the  i8th  Brumaire  contained  the  seeds  of  its  own 
punishment ;  that  the  I4th  July  was  the  mighty  voice  of  liberty  pro- 


claiming  the  resurrection,  the  new  day,  and  inviting  the  oppressed  peo 
ples  of  the  earth  to  look  upon  the  divine  face  of  France  and  live  ;  and 
let  us  here  record  our  everlasting  curse  against  the  man  of  the  2d  Decem 
ber,  and  declare  in  thunder  tones,  the  native  tones  of  France,  that  but 
for  him  there  had  been  no  lyth  March  in  history,  no  I2th  October,  no 
igth  January,  no  22d  April,  no  i6th  November,  no  3Oth  September,  no 
2d  July,  no  I4th  February,  no  2gth  June,  no  I5th  August,  no  3ist  May 
— that  but  for  him,  France,  the  pure,  the  grand,  the  peerless,  had  had 
a  serene  and  vacant  almanac  to-day ! 

I  have  heard  of  one  French  sermon  which  closed  in  this 
odd  yet  eloquent  way  : — 

My  hearers,  we  have  sad  cause  to  remember  the  man  of  the  I3th  Jan 
uary.  The  results  of  the  vast  crime  of  the  I3th  January  have  been  in 
just  proportion  to  the  magnitude  of  the  act  itself.  But  for  it  there  had 
been  no  3oth  November  —  sorrowful  spectacle  !  The  grisly  deed  of  the 
i6th  June  had  not  been  done  but  for  it,  nor  had  the  man  of  the  i6th 
June  known  existence  ;  to  it  alone  the  3d  September  was  due,  also  the 
fatal  1 2th  October.  Shall  we,  then,  be  grateful  for  the  I3th  January, 
with  its  freight  of  death  for  you  and  me  and  all  that  breathe  ?  Yes,  my 
friends,  for  it  gave  us  also  that  which  had  never  come  but  for  it,  and  it 
alone — the  blessed  25th  December. 

It  may  be  well  enough  to  explain,  though  in  the  case  of 
many  of  my  readers  this  will  hardly  be  necessary.  The 
man  of  the  i3th  January  is  Adam ;  the  crime  of  that  date 
was  the  eating  of  the  apple ;  the  sorrowful  spectacle  of  the 
3oth  November  was  the  expulsion  from  Eden ;  the  grisly 
deed  of  the  i6th  June  was  the  murder  of  Abel;  the  act  of 
the  3d  September  was  the  beginning  of  the  journey  to  the 
land  of  Nod;  the  i2th  day  of  October,  the  last  mountain- 
tops  disappeared  under  the  flood.  When  you  go  to  church 
in  France,  you  want  to  take  your  almanac  with  you  —  anno 
tated. 


LEGEND  OF  SAGENFELD,  IN  GERMANY 


MORE  than  a  thousand  years  ago  this  small  district  was 
a  kingdom  —  a  little  bit  of  a  kingdom,  a  sort  of  dainty  little 
toy  kingdom,  as  one  might  say.  It  was  far  removed  from 
the  jealousies,  strifes,  and  turmoils  of  that  old  warlike  day, 
and  so  its  life  was  a  simple  life,  its  people  a  gentle  and 
guileless  race;  it  lay  always  in  a  deep  dream  of  peace,  a 
soft  Sabbath  tranquillity ;  there  was  no  malice,  there  was 
no  envy,  there  was  no  ambition,  consequently  there  were  no 
heart-burnings,  there  was  no  unhappiness  in  the  land. 

In  the  course  of  time  the  old  king  died  and  his  little  son 
Hubert  came  to  the  throne.  The  people's  love  for  him 
grew  daily ;  he  was  so  good  and  so  pure  and  so  noble,  that 
by  and  by  this  love  became  a  passion,  almost  a  worship. 
Now  at  his  birth  the  soothsayers  had  diligently  studied  the 
stars  and  found  something  written  in  that  shining  book  to 
this  effect  :— 

In  Hubert's  fourteenth  year  a  pregnant  event  will  happen ; 
the  animal  whose  singing  shall  sound  sweetest  in  Hubert's  ear 
shall  save  Huberfs  life.  So  long  as  the  king  and  the  nation 

*  Left  out  of  "A  Tramp  Abroad"  because  its  authenticity  seemed 
doubtful,  and  could  not  at  that  time  be  proved.— M.  T. 


352 

shall  honor  this  animaVs  race  for  this  good  deed,  the  ancient 
dynasty  shall  not  fail  of  an  heir,  nor  the  nation  know  war  or 
pestilence  or  poverty.  But  beware  an  erring  choice  ! 

All  through  the  king's  thirteenth  year  but  one  thing  was 
talked  of  by  the  soothsayers,  the  statesmen,  the  little  par 
liament,  and  the  general  people.  That  one  thing  was  this : 
How  is  the  last  sentence  of  the  prophecy  to  be  understood  ? 
What  goes  before  seems  to  mean  that  the  saving  animal 
will  choose  itself,  at  the  proper  time ;  but  the  closing  sen 
tence  seems  to  mean  that  the  king  must  choose  beforehand, 
and  say  what  singer  among  the  animals  pleases  him  best, 
and  that  if  he  choose  wisely  the  chosen  animal  will  save 
his  life,  his  dynasty,  his  people,  but  that  if  he  should  make 
"  an  erring  choice  " — beware  ! 

By  the  end  of  the  year  there  were  as  many  opinions 
about  this  matter  as  there  had  been  in  the  beginning  •,  but 
a  majority  of  the  wise  and  the  simple  were  agreed  that  the 
safest  plan  would  be  for  the  little  king  to  make  choice  be 
forehand,  and  the  earlier  the  better.  So  an  edict  was  sent 
forth  commanding  all  persons  who  owned  singing  creatures 
to  bring  them  to  the  great  hall  of  the  palace  in  the  morn 
ing  of  the  first  day  of  the  new  year.  This  command  was 
obeyed.  When  everything  was  in  readiness  for  the  trial, 
the  king  made  his  solemn  entry  with  the  great  officers  of 
the  crown,  all  clothed  in  their  robes  of  state.  The  king 
mounted  his  golden  throne  and  prepared  to  give  judgment. 
But  he  presently  said — 

"  These  creatures  all  sing  at  once ;  the  noise  is  unendur 
able  ;  no  one  can  choose  in  such  a  turmoil.  Take  them  all 
away,  and  bring  back  one  at  a  time." 

This  was  done.  One  sweet  warbler  after  another 
charmed  the  young  king's  ear  and  was  removed  to  make 
way  for  another  candidate.  The  precious  minutes  slipped 


353 

by ;  among  so  many  bewitching  songsters  he  found  it  hard 
to  choose,  and  all  the  harder  because  the  promised  penalty 
for  an  error  was  so  terrible  that  it  unsettled  his  judgment 
and  made  him  afraid  to  trust  his  own  ears.  He  grew  ner 
vous  and  his  face  showed  distress.  His  ministers  saw  this, 
for  they  never  took  their  eyes  from  him  a  moment.  Now 
they  began  to  say  in  their  hearts — 

"  He  has  lost  courage — the  cool  head  is  gone — he  will 
err — he  and  his  dynasty  and  his  people  are  doomed !" 

At  the  end  of  an  hour  the  king  sat  silent  awhile,  and 
then  said — 

"  Bring  back  the  linnet" 

The  linnet  trilled  forth  her  jubilant  music.  In  the  midst 
of  it  the  king  was  about  to  uplift  his  sceptre  in  sign  of 
choice,  but  checked  himself  and  said — 

"  But  let  us  be  sure.  Bring  back  the  thrush  j  let  them 
sing  together." 

The  thrush  was  brought,  and  the  two  birds  poured  out 
their  marvels  of  song  together.  The  king  wavered,  then 
his  inclination  began  to  settle  and  strengthen — one  could 
see  it  in  his  countenance.  Hope  budded  in  the  hearts  of 
the  old  ministers,  their  pulses  began  to  beat  quicker,  the 
sceptre  began  to  rise  slowly,  when — 

There  was  a  hideous  interruption  !  It  was  a  sound  like 
this — just  at  the  door  : — 

"  Waw he  / — waw he  I — waw-he  !  waw- 

he ! — waw-he  !" 

Everybody  was  sorely  startled — and  enraged  at  himself 
for  showing  it. 

The  next  instant  the  dearest,  sweetest,  prettiest  little 
peasant  maid  of  nine  years  came  tripping  in,  her  brown 
eyes  glowing  with  childish  eagerness ;  but  when  she  saw 
that  august  company  and  those  angry  faces  she  stopped  and 
hung  her  head  and  put  her  poor  coarse  apron  to  her  eyes. 


354 

Nobody  gave  her  welcome,  none  pitied  her.  Presently  she 
looked  up  timidly  through  her  tears,  and  said — 

"  My  lord  the  king,  I  pray  you  pardon  me,  for  I  meant 
no  wrong.  I  have  no  father  and  no  mother,  but  I  have  a 
goat  and  a  donkey,  and  they  are  all  in  all  to  me.  My  goat 
gives  me  the  sweetest  milk,  and  when  my  dear  good  donkey 
brays  it  seems  to  me  there  is  no  music  like  to  it.  So  when 
my  lord  the  king's  jester  said  the  sweetest  singer  among  all 
the  animals  should  save  the  crown  and  nation,  and  moved 
me  to  bring  him  here — " 

All  the  court  burst  into  a  rude  laugh,  and  the  child  fled 
away  crying,  without  trying  to  finish  her  speech.  The  chief 
minister  gave  a  private  order  that  she  and  her  disastrous 
donkey  be  flogged  beyond  the  precincts  of  the  palace  and 
commanded  to  come  within  them  no  more. 

Then  the  trial  of  the  birds  was  resumed.  The  two  birds 
sang  their  best,  but  the  sceptre  lay  motionless  in  the  king's 
hand.  Hope  died  slowly  out  in  the  breasts  of  all.  An 
hour  went  by ;  two  hours ;  still  no  decision.  The  day 
waned  to  its  close,  and  the  waiting  multitudes  outside  the 
palace  grew  crazed  wih  anxiety  and  apprehension.  The 
twilight  came  on,  the  shadows  fell  deeper  and  deeper.  The 
king  and  his  court  could  no  longer  see  each  other's  faces. 
No  one  spoke — none  called  for  lights.  The  great  trial  had 
been  made ;  it  had  failed ;  each  and  all  wished  to  hide 
their  faces  from  the  light  and  cover  up  their  deep  trouble 
in  their  own  hearts. 

Finally  —  hark !  A  rich,  full  strain  of  the  divinest 
melody  streamed  forth  from  a  remote  part  of  the  hall  —  the 
nightingale's  voice  ! 

"Up!"  shouted  the  king,  "let  all  the  bells  make  procla 
mation  to  the  people,  for  the  choice  is  made  and  we  have 
not  erred.  King,  dynasty,  and  nation  are  saved.  From 
henceforth  let  the  nightingale  be  honored  throughout  the 


355 

land  forever.  And  publish  it  among  all  the  people  that 
whosoever  shall  insult  a  nightingale,  or  injure  it,  shall  suffer 
death.  The  king  hath  spoken." 

All  that  little  world  was  drunk  with  joy.  The  castle  and 
the  city  blazed  with  bonfires  all  night  long,  the  people 
danced  and  drank  and  sang,  and  the  triumphant  clamor  of 
the  bells  never  ceased. 

From  that  day  the  nightingale  was  a  sacred  bird.  Its 
song  was  heard  in  every  house  ;  the  poets  wrote  its  praises; 
the  painters  painted  it ;  its  sculptured  image  adorned  every 
arch  and  turret  and  fountain  and  public  building.  It  was 
even  taken  into  the  king's  councils ;  and  no  grave  matter 
of  state  was  decided  until  the  soothsayers  had  laid  the 
thing  before  the  state  nightingale  and  translated  to  the 
ministry  what  it  was  that  the  bird  had  sung  about  it. 


n 


THE  young  king  was  very  fond  of  the  chase.  When  the 
summer  was  come  he  rode  forth  with  hawk  and  hound,  one 
day,  in  a  brilliant  company  of  his  nobles.  He  got  separated 
from  them,  by-and-by,  in  a  great  forest,  and  took  what  he 
imagined  a  near  cut,  to  find  them  again ;  but  it  was  a  mis 
take.  He  rode  on  and  on,  hopefully  at  first,  but  with  sink 
ing  courage  finally.  Twilight  came  on,  and  still  he  was 
plunging  through  a  lonely  and  unknown  land.  Then  came 
a  catastrophe.  In  the  dim  light  he  forced  his  horse  through 
a  tangled  thicket  overhanging  a  steep  and  rocky  declivity. 
When  horse  and  rider  reached  the  bottom,  the  former  had 
a  broken  neck  and  the  latter  a  broken  leg.  The  poor  little 
king  lay  there  suffering  agonies  of  pain,  and  each  hour 
seemed  a  long  month  to  him.  He  kept  his  ear  strained  to 
hear  any  sound  that  might  promise  hope  of  rescue  ;  but  he 
heard  no  voice,  no  sound  of  horn  or  bay  of  hound.  So  at 
last  he  gave  up  all  hope,  and  said,  **  Let  death  come,  for 
come  it  must." 

Just  then  the  deep,  sweet  song  of  a  nightingale  swept 
across  the  still  wastes  of  the  night. 

"  Saved  !"  the  king  said.  "  Saved  !  It  is  the  sacred  bird, 
and  the  prophecy  is  come  true.  The  gods  themselves  pro 
tected  me  from  error  in  the  choice." 

He  could  hardly  contain  his  joy ;  he  could  not  word  his 
gratitude.  Every  few  moments,  now,  he  thought  he  caught 
the  sound  of  approaching  succor.  But  each  time  it  was  a 


357 

disappointment;  no  succor  came.  The  dull  hours  drifted 
on.  Still  no  help  came — but  still  the  sacred  bird  sang 
on.  He  began  to  have  misgivings  about  his  choice,  but  he 
stifled  them.  Toward  dawn  the  bird  ceased.  The  morn 
ing  came,  and  with  it  thirst  and  hunger;  but  no  succor. 
The  day  waxed  and  waned.  At  last  the  king  cursed  the 
nightingale. 

Immediately  the  song  of  the  thrush  came  from  out  the 
wood.  The  king  said  in  his  heart,  "  This  was  the  true  bird 
— my  choice  was  false — succor  will  come  now." 

But  it  did  not  come.  Then  he  lay  many  hours  insen 
sible.  When  he  came  to  himself,  a  linnet  was  singing. 
He  listened — with  apathy.  His  faith  was  gone.  "These 
birds,"  he  said,  "  can  bring  no  help  ;  I  and  my  house  and 
my  people  are  doomed."  He  turned  him  about  to  die ;  for 
he  was  grown  very  feeble  from  hunger  and  thirst  and  suf 
fering,  and  felt  that  his  end  was  near.  In  truth,  he  wanted 
to  die,  and  be  released  from  pain.  For  long  hours  he  lay 
without  thought  or  feeling  or  motion.  Then  his  senses  re 
turned.  The  dawn  of  the  third  morning  was  breaking. 
Ah,  the  world  seemed  very  beautiful  to  those  worn  eyes. 
Suddenly  a  great  longing  to  live  rose  up  in  the  lad's 
heart,  and  from  his  soul  welled  a  deep  and  fervent  prayer 
that  Heaven  would  have  mercy  upon  him  and  let  him 
see  his  home  and  his  friends  once  more.  In  that  in 
stant  a  soft,  a  faint,  a  far-off  sound,  but  oh,  how  inex 
pressibly  sweet  to  his  waiting  ear,  came  floating  out  of  the 
distance — 

"Waw he  I  waw he!  waw-he! — waw-he! 

— waw-he !" 

"  That,  oh,  that  song  is  sweeter,  a  thousand  times  sweet 
er  than  the  voice  of  the  nightingale,  thrush,  or  linnet,  for  it 
brings  not  mere  hope,  but  certainty  of  succor ;  and  now  in 
deed  am  I  saved  !  The  sacred  singer  has  chosen  itself,  as 


358 



the  oracle  intended ;  the  prophecy  is  fulfilled,  and  my  life, 
my  house,  and  my  people  are  redeemed.  The  ass  shall  be 
sacred  from  this  day !" 

The  divine  music  grew  nearer  and  nearer,  stronger  and 
stronger — and  ever  sweeter  and  sweeter  to  the  perishing 
sufferer's  ear.  Down  the  declivity  the  docile  little  donkey 
wandered,  cropping  herbage  and  singing  as  he  went ;  and 
when  at  last  he  saw  the  dead  horse  and  the  wounded  king, 
he  came  and  snuffed  at  them  with  simple  and  marvelling 
curiosity.  The  king  petted  him,  and  he  knelt  down  as  had 
been  his  wont  when  his  little  mistress  desired  to  mount. 
With  great  labor  and  pain  the  lad  drew  himself  upon 
the  creature's  back,  and  held  himself  there  by  aid  of  the 
generous  ears.  The  ass  went  singing  forth  from  the  place 
and  carried  the  king  to  the  little  peasant  maid's  hut.  She 
gave  him  her  pallet  for  a  bed,  refreshed  him  with  goat's 
milk,  and  then  flew  to  tell  the  great  news  to  the  first  scout- 
ing-party  of  searchers  she  might  meet. 

The  king  got  well.  His  first  act  was  to  proclaim  the 
sacredness  and  inviolability  of  the  ass ;  his  second  was  to 
add  this  particular  ass  to  his  cabinet  and  make  him  chief 
minister  of  the  crown  ;  his  third  was  to  have  all  the  statues 
and  effigies  of  nightingales  throughout  his  kingdom  de 
stroyed,  and  replaced  by  statues  and  effigies  of  the  sacred 
donkey ;  and  his  fourth  was  to  announce  that  when  the  lit 
tle  peasant  maid  should  reach  her  fifteenth  year  he  would 
make  her  his  queen — and  he  kept  his  word. 

Such  is  the  legend.  This  explains  why  the  mouldering 
image  of  the  ass  adorns  all  these  old  crumbling  walls  and 
arches ;  and  it  explains  why,  during  many  centuries,  an  ass 
was  always  the  chief  minister  in  that  royal  cabinet,  just  as 
is  still  the  case  in  most  cabinets  to  this  day;  and  it  also 
explains  why,  in  that  little  kingdom,  during  many  centuries, 


359 

all  great  poems,  all  great  speeches,  all  great  books,  all  pub 
lic  solemnities,  and  all  royal  proclamations,  always  began 
with  these  stirring  words — 

"  Waw he!  — waw he! — waw-he !  —  waw- 

he  1 — waw-he !" 


SPEECH  ON  THE  BABIES 

AT  THE  BANQUET,  IN  CHICAGO,  GIVEN  BY  THE  ARMY  OF 
THE  TENNESSEE  TO  THEIR  FIRST  COMMANDER,  GENERAL 
U.  S.  GRANT,  NOVEMBER,  1879. 


[The  fifteenth  regular  toast  was  "The  Babies.— As  they  comfort  us 
in  our  sorrows,  let  us  not  forget  them  in  our  festivities."] 

I  LIKE  that  We  have  not  all  had  the  good  fortune  to 
be  ladies.  We  have  not  all  been  generals,  or  poets,  or 
statesmen ;  but  when  the  toast  works  down  to  the  babies, 
we  stand  on  common  ground.  It  is  a  shame  that  for  a 
thousand  years  the  world's  banquets  have  utterly  ignored 
the  baby,  as  if  he  didn't  amount  to  anything.  If  you  will 
stop  and  think  a  minute — if  you  will  go  back  fifty  or  one 
hundred  years  to  your  early  married  life  and  recontemplate 
your  first  baby — you  will  remember  that  he  amounted  to  a 
good  deal,  and  even  something  over.  You  soldiers  all 
know  that  when  that  little  fellow  arrived  at  family  head 
quarters  you  had  to  hand  in  your  resignation.  He  took 
entire  command.  You  became  his  lackey,  his  mere  body- 
servant,  and  you  had  to  stand  around  too.  He  was  not 
a  commander  who  made  allowances  for  time,  distance; 
weather,  or  anything  else.  You  had  to  execute  his  order 
-whether  it  was  possible  or  not.  And  there  was  only  one 
form  of  marching  in  his  manual  of  tactics,  and  that  was 


the  double-quick.  He  treated  you  with  every  sort  of  in- 
science  and  disrespect,  and  the  bravest  of  you  didn't  dare 
to  say  a  word.  You  could  face  the  death-storm  at  Donelson 
and  Vicksburg,  and  give  back  blow  for  blow ;  but  when  he 
clawed  your  whiskers,  and  pulled  your  hair,  and  twisted 
your  nose,  you  had  to  take  it.  When  the  thunders  of  war 
were  sounding  in  your  ears  you  set  your  faces  toward  the 
batteries,  and  advanced  with  steady  tread ;  but  when  he 
turned  on  the  terrors  of  his  war-whoop  you  advanced  in  the 
other  direction,  and  mighty  glad  of  the  chance  too.  When 
he  called  for  soothing-syrup,  did  you  venture  to  throw  out 
any  side  remarks  about  certain  services  being  unbecoming 
an  officer  and  a  gentleman  ?  No.  You  got  up  and  got  it. 
When  he  ordered  his  pap  bottle  and  it  was  not  warm,  did 
you  talk  back  ?  Not  you.  You  went  to  work  and  warmed 
it.  You  even  descended  so  far  in  your  menial  office  as  to 
take  a  suck  at  that  warm,  insipid  stuff  yourself,  to  see  if  it 
was  right  —  three  parts  water  to  one  of  milk,  a  touch  of 
sugar  to  modify  the  colic,  and  a  drop  of  peppermint  to  kill 
those  immortal  hiccoughs.  I  can  taste  that  stuff  yet.  And 
how  many  things  you  learned  as  you  went  along !  Senti 
mental  young  folks  still  take  stock  in  that  beautiful  old 
saying  that  when  the  baby  smiles  in  his  sleep,  it  is  because 
the  angels  are  whispering  to  him.  Very  pretty,  but  too 
thin  —  simply  wind  on  the  stomach,  my  friends.  If  the 
baby  proposed  to  take  a  walk  at  his  usual  hour,  two  o'clock 
in  the  morning,  didn't  you  rise  up  promptly  and  remark, 
with  a  mental  addition  which  would  not  improve  a  Sunday- 
school  book  much,  that  that  was  the  very  thing  you  were 
about  to  propose  yourself?  Oh!  you  were  under  good  dis 
cipline,  and  as  you  went  fluttering  up  and  down  the  room 
in  your  undress  uniform,  you  not  only  prattled  undignified 
baby-talk,  but  even  tuned  up  your  martial  voices  and  tried 
to  sing! — "Rock-a-by  baby  in  the  tree-top,"  for  instance. 


What  a  spectacle  for  an  Army  of  the  Tennessee !  And 
what  an  affliction  for  the  neighbors,  too ;  for  it  is  not  every 
body  within  a  mile  around  that  likes  military  music  at  three 
in  the  morning.  And  when  you  had  been  keeping  this  sort 
of  thing  up  two  or  three  hours,  and  your  little  velvet-head 
intimated  that  nothing  suited  him  like  exercise  and  noise, 
what  did  you  do  ?  ["  Go  on/"]  You  simply  went  on  until 
you  dropped  in  the  last  ditch.  The  idea  that  a  baby  doesn't 
amount  to  anything!  Why,  one  baby  is  just  a  house  and  a 
front  yard  full  by  itself.  One  baby  can  furnish  more  busi 
ness  than  you  and  your  whole  Interior  Department  can  at 
tend  to.  He  is  enterprising,  irrepressible,  brimful  of  law 
less  activities.  Do  what  you  please,  you  can't  make  him 
stay  on  the  reservation.  Sufficient  unto  the  day  is  one 
baby.  As  long  as  you  are  in  your  right  mind  don't  you 
ever  pray  for  twins.  Twins  amount  to  a  permanent  riot. 
And  there  ain't  any  real  difference  between  triplets  and  an 
insurrection. 

Yes,  it  was  high  time  for  a  toast-master  to  recognize  the 
importance  of  the  babies.  Think  what  is  in  store  for  the 
present  crop  !  Fifty  years  from  now  we  shall  all  be  dead, 
I  trust,  and  then  this  flag,  if  it  still  survive  (and  let  us  hope 
it  may),  will  be  floating  over  a  Republic  numbering  200,000- 
ooo  souls,  according  to  the  settled  laws  of  our  increase. 
Our  present  schooner  of  State  will  have  grown  into  a  polit 
ical  leviathan — a  Great  Eastern.  The  cradled  babies  of  to 
day  will  be  on  deck.  Let  them  be  well  trained,  for  we  are 
going  to  leave  a  big  contract  on  their  hands.  Among  the 
three  or  four  million  cradles  now  rocking  in  the  land  are 
some  which  this  nation  would  preserve  for  ages  as  sacred 
things,  if  we  could  know  which  ones  they  are.  In  one  of 
these  cradles  the  unconscious  Farragut  of  the  future  is  at 
this  moment  teething — think  of  it ! — and  putting  in  a  world 
of  dead  earnest,  unarticulated,  but  perfectly  justifiable  pro- 


363 

fanity  over  it,  too.  In  another  the  future  renowned  astron 
omer  is  blinking  at  the  shining  Milky  Way  with  but  a  lan 
guid  interest — poor  little  chap  ! — and  wondering  what  has 
become  of  that  other  one  they  call  the  wet-nurse.  In  an 
other  the  future  great  historian  is  lying — and  doubtless  will 
continue  to  lie  until  his  earthly  mission  is  ended.  In  an 
other  the  future  President  is  busying  himself  with  no  pro- 
founder  problem  of  state  than  what  the  mischief  has  become 
of  his  hair  so  early;  and  in  a  mighty  array  of  other  cradles 
there  are  now  some  60,000  future  office-seekers,  getting 
ready  to  furnish  him  occasion  to  grapple  with  that  same 
old  problem  a  second  time.  And  in  still  one  more  cradle, 
somewhere  under  the  flag,  the  future  illustrious  commander- 
in-chief  of  the  American  armies  is  so  little  burdened  with 
his  approaching  grandeurs  and  responsibilities  as  to  be 
giving  his  whole  strategic  mind  at  this  moment  to  trying  to 
find  out  some  way  to  get  his  big  toe  into  his  mouth — an 
achievement  which,  meaning  no  disrespect,  the  illustrious 
guest  of  this  evening  turned  his  entire  attention  to  some 
fifty-six  years  ago  ;  and  if  the  child  is  but  a  prophecy  of  the 
man,  there  are  mighty  few  who  will  doubt  that  he  succeeded. 


SPEECH   ON  THE  WEATHER 

AT  THE  NEW  ENGLAND  SOCIETY'S  SEVENTY-FIRST  ANNUAL 
DINNER,  NEW  YORK  CITY. 


The  next  toast  was  :  "  The  Oldest  Inhabitant — The  Weather  of  New 
England." 

Who  can  lose  it  and  forget  it? 
Who  can  have  it  and  regret  it  ? 

"  Be  interposer  'twixt  us  Twain." 

Merchant  of  Venice. 

To  this  Samuel  L.  Clemens  (Mark  Twain)  replied  as  follows  : — 

I  REVERENTLY  believe  that  the  Maker  who  made  us  all 
makes  everything  in  New  England  but  the  weather.  I 
don't  know  who  makes  that,  but  I  think  it  must  be  raw  ap 
prentices  in  the  weather-clerk's  factory  who  experiment  and 
learn  how,  in  New  England,  for  board  and  clothes,  and  then 
are  promoted  to  make  weather  for  countries  that  require  a 
good  article,  and  will  take  their  custom  elsewhere  if  they 
don't  get  it.  There  is  a  sumptuous  variety  about  the  New 
England  weather  that  compels  the  stranger's  admiration — 
and  regret.  The  weather  is  always  doing  something  there  ; 
always  attending  strictly  to  business;  always  getting  up 
new  designs  and  trying  them  on  the  people  to  see  how  they 


365 

will  go.  But  it  gets  through  more  business  in  spring  than 
in  any  other  season.  In  the  spring  I  have  counted  one 
hundred  and  thirty-six  different  kinds  of  weather  inside  of 
four-and-twenty  hours.  It  was  I  that  made  the  fame  and 
fortune  of  that  man  that  had  that  marvellous  collection  of 
weather  on  exhibition  at  the  Centennial,  that  so  astounded 
the  foreigners.  He  was  going  to  travel  all  over  the  world 
and  get  specimens  from  all  the  climes.  I  said,  "  Don't  you 
do  it;  you  come  to  New  England  on  a  favorable  spring 
day."  I  told  him  what  we  could  do  in  the  way  of  style, 
variety,  and  quantity.  Well,  he  came  and  he  made  his  col 
lection  in  four  days.  As  to  variety,  why,  he  confessed  that 
he  got  hundreds  of  kinds  of  weather  that  he  had  never 
heard  of  before.  And  as  to  quantity — well,  after  he  had 
picked  out  and  discarded  all  that  was  blemished  in  any  way, 
he  not  only  had  weather  enough,  but  weather  to  spare  ; 
weather  to  hire  out;  weather  to  sell;  to  deposit;  weather 
to  invest ;  weather  to  give  to  the  poor.  The  people  of 
New  England  are  by  nature  patient  and  forbearing,  but 
there  are  some  things  which  they  will  not  stand.  Every 
year  they  kill  a  lot  of  poets  for  writing  about  "  Beautiful 
Spring."  These  are  generally  casual  visitors,  who  bring 
their  notions  of  spring  from  somewhere  else,  and  cannot,  of 
course,  know  how  the  natives  feel  about  spring.  And  so  the 
first  thing  they  know  the  opportunity  to  inquire  how  they 
feel  has  permanently  gone  by.  Old  Probabilities  has  a 
mighty  reputation  for  accurate  prophecy,  and  thoroughly 
well  deserves  it.  You  take  up  the  paper  and  observe  how 
crisply  and  confidently  he  checks  off  what  to-day's  weather 
is  going  to  be  on  the  Pacific,  down  South,  in  the  Middle 
States,  in  the  Wisconsin  region.  See  him  sail  along  in  the 
joy  and  pride  of  his  power  till  he  gets  to  New  England,  and 
then  see  his  tail  drop.  He  doesn't  know  what  the  weather 
is  going  to  be  in  New  England.  Well,  he  mulls  over  it, 


366 

and  by-and-by  he  gets  out  something  about  like  this  :  Prob 
able  northeast   to  southwest  winds,  varying  to  the  south 
ward  and  westward  and  eastward,  and  points  between,  high 
and  low  barometer  swapping  around  from  place  to  place; 
probable  areas  of  rain,  snow,  hail,  and  drought,  succeeded 
or  preceded   by  earthquakes,  with  thunder  and   lightning. 
Then  he  jots  down  this  postscript  from  his  wandering  mind, 
to  cover  accidents.     "  But  it  is  possible  that  the  programme 
may  be  wholly  changed  in  the  mean  time."     Yes,  one  of  the 
brightest  gems  in  the  New  England  weather  is  the  dazzling 
uncertainty  of  it.     There  is  only  one  thing  certain  about  it : 
you  are  certain  there  is  going  to  be  plenty  of  it — a  perfect 
grand  review ;  but  you  never  can  tell  which  end  of  the  pro 
cession  is  going  to  move  first.    You  fix  up  for  the  drought ; 
you  leave  your  umbrella  in  the  house  and  sally  out,  and 
two   to   one  you  get  drowned.     You  make  up  your  mind 
that  the  earthquake  is  due  ;  you  stand  from  under,  and  take 
hold  of  something  to  steady  yourself,  and  the  first  thing 
you  know  you  get  struck  by  lightning.      These  are  great 
disappointments;  but  they  can't  be  helped.     The  lightning 
there  is  peculiar;  it  is  so  convincing,  that  when  it  strikes  a 
thing  it  doesn't  leave  enough  of  that  thing  behind  for  you 
to  tell  whether —     Well,  you'd  think  it  was  something  valu 
able,  and  a  Congressman  had  been  there.     And  the  thun 
der.     When  the  thunder  begins  to  merely  tune   up   and 
scrape  and  saw,  and  key  up  the  instruments  for  the  per 
formance,  strangers  say,  "Why,  what    awful    thunder    you 
have  here  !"     But  when  the  baton  is  raised  and  the  real 
concert  begins,  you'll  find  that  stranger  down  in  the  cellar 
with  his  head  in  the  ash-barrel.     Now  as  to  the  size  of  the 
weather  in  New  England  —  lengthways,  I  mean.     It  is  ut 
terly  disproportioned    to   the  size   of   that   little    country. 
Half  the  time,  when  it  is  packed  as  full  as  it  can  stick,  you 
will  see  that  New  England  weather  sticking  out  beyond  the 


edges  and  projecting  around  hundreds  and  hundreds  of 
miles  over  the  neighboring  States.  She  can't  hold  a  tenth 
part  of  her  weather.  You  can  see  cracks  all  about  where 
she  has  strained  herself  trying  to  do  it.  I  could  speak 
volumes  about  the  inhuman  perversity  of  the  New  England 
weather,  but  I  will  give  but  a  single  specimen.  I  like  to 
hear  rain  on  a  tin  roof.  So  I  covered  part  of  my  roof  with 
tin,  with  an  eye  to  that  luxury.  Well,  sir,  do  you  think  it 
ever  rains  on  that  tin?  No,  sir  ;  skips  it  every  time.  Mind, 
in  this  speech  I  have  been  trying  merely  to  do  honor  to 
the  New  England  weather — no  language  could  do  it  justice. 
But,  after  all,  there  is  at  least  one  or  two  things  about  that 
weather  (or,  if  you  please,  effects  produced  by  it)  which  we 
residents  would  not  like  to  part  with.  If  we  hadn't  our  be 
witching  autumn  foliage,  we  should  still  have  to  credit  the 
weather  with  one  feature  which  compensates  for  all  its  bully 
ing  vagaries — the  ice-storm  :  when  a  leafless  tree  is  clothed 
with  ice  from  the  bottom  to  the  top — ice  that  is  as  bright 
and  clear  as  crystal ;  when  every  bough  and  twig  is  strung 
with  ice -beads,  frozen  dew-drops,  and  the  whole  tree 
sparkles  cold  and  white,  like  the  Shah  of  Persia's  diamond 
plume.  Then  the  wind  waves  the  branches  and  the  sun 
comes  out  and  turns  all  those  myriads  of  beads  and  drops 
to  prisms  that  glow  and  burn  and  flash  with  all  manner  of 
colored  fires,  which  change  and  change  again  with  incon 
ceivable  rapidity  from  blue  to  red,  from  red  to  green,  and 
green  to  gold — the  tree  becomes  a  spraying  fountain,  a  very 
explosion  of  dazzling  jewels ;  and  it  stands  there  the  acme, 
the  climax,  the  supremest  possibility  in  art  or  nature,  of  be 
wildering,  intoxicating,  intolerable  magnificence.  One  can 
not  make  the  words  too  strong. 


CONCERNING  THE  AMERICAN  LAN 
GUAGE* 


THERE  was  an  Englishman  in  our  compartment,  and  he 
complimented  me  on  —  on  what?  But  you  would  never 
guess.  He  complimented  me  on  my  English.  He  said 
Americans  in  general  did  not  speak  the  English  language 
as  correctly  as  I  did.  I  said  I  was  obliged  to  him  for  his 
compliment,  since  I  knew  he  meant  it  for  one,  but  that  I 
was  not  fairly  entitled  to  it,  for  I  did  not  speak  English  at 
all — I  only  spoke  American. 

He  laughed,  and  said  it  was  a  distinction  without  a  dif 
ference.  I  said  no,  the  difference  was  not  prodigious,  but 
still  it  was  considerable.  We  fell  into  a  friendly  dispute 
over  the  matter.  I  put  my  case  as  well  as  I  could,  and 
said — 

"The  languages  were  identical  several  generations  ago, 
but  our  changed  conditions  and  the  spread  of  our  people 
far  to  the  south  and  far  to  the  west  have  made  many  alter 
ations  in  our  pronunciation,  and  have  introduced  new  words 
among  us  and  changed  the  meanings  of  many  old  ones. 
English  people  talk  through  their  noses ;  we  do  not.  We 
say  know,  English  people  say  ndo ;  we  say  cow,  the  Briton 
says  kdow ;  we — " 

*  Being  part  of  a  chapter  which  was  crowded  out  of  "A  Tramp 
Abroad."— M.  T. 


"Oh,  come!  that  is  pure  Yankee;  everybody  knows 
that." 

"Yes,  it  is  pure  Yankee  ;  that  is  true.  One  cannot  hear 
it  in  America  outside  of  the  little  corner  called  New  Eng 
land,  which  is  Yankee  land.  The  English  themselves  plant 
ed  it  there,  two  hundred  and  fifty  years  ago,  and  there  it  re 
mains  ;  it  has  never  spread.  But  England  talks  through  her 
nose  yet ;  the  Londoner  and  the  backwoods  New-England- 
er  pronounce  *  know '  and  '  cow  '  alike,  and  then  the  Briton 
unconsciously  satirizes  himself  by  making  fun  of  the  Yan 
kee's  pronunciation." 

We  argued  this  point  at  some  length  ;  nobody  won  ;  but 
no  matter,  the  fact  remains  —  Englishmen  say  ndo  and  kdow 
for  "know"  and  "cow,"  and  that  is  what  the  rustic  inhab 
itant  of  a  very  small  section  of  America  does. 

"  You  conferred  your  a  upon  New  England,  too,  and  there 
it  remains;  it  has  not  travelled  out  of  the  narrow  limits  of 
those  six  little  States  in  all  these  two  hundred  and  fifty 
years.  All  England  uses  it,  New  England's  small  popula 
tion — say  four  millions — use  it,  but  we  have  forty-five  mill 
ions  who  do  not  use  it.  You  say  *  glahs  of  wawtah,'  so 
does  New  England  ;  at  least,  New  England  says  glahs. 
America  at  large  flattens  the  a,  and  says  'glass  of  water.' 
These  sounds  are  pleasanter  than  yours ;  you  may  think 
they  are  not  right — well,  in  English  they  are  not  right,  but 
in  '  American  '  they  are.  You  say  flahsk,  and  bahsket,  and 
jackahss ;  we  say  flask,'  'basket,'  'jackass1 — sounding 
the  a  as  it  is  in  '  tallow,'  *  fallow,  and  so  on.  Up  to  as  late 
as  1847  Mr.  Webster's  Dictionary  had  the  impudence  to 
still  pronounce  'basket '  bahsket,  when  he  knew  that  outside 
of  his  little  New  England  all  America  shortened  the  a  and 
paid  no  attention  to  his  English  broadening  of  it.  How 
ever,  it  called  itself  an  English  Dictionary,  so  it  was  proper 
enough  that  it  should  stick  to  English  forms,  perhaps. 


37Q 

It  still  calls  itself  an  English  Dictionary  to-day,  but  it  has 
quietly  ceased  to  pronounce  '  basket  *  as  if  it  were  spelt 
bahsket.  In  the  American  language  the  h  is  respected ;  the 
h  is  not  dropped  or  added  improperly." 

"The  same  is  the  case  in  England  —  I  mean  among  the 
educated  classes,  of  course." 

"  Yes,  that  is  true  ;  but  a  nation's  language  is  a  very  large 
matter.  It  is  not  simply  a  manner  of  speech  obtaining 
among  the  educated  handful;  the  manner  obtaining  among 
the  vast  uneducated  multitude  must  be  considered  also. 
Your  uneducated  masses  speak  English,  you  will  not  deny 
that;  our  uneducated  masses  speak  American  —  it  won't  be 
fair  for  you  to  deny  that,  for  you  can  see,  yourself,  that  when 
your  stable-boy  says,  *  It  isn't  the  'unting  that  'urts  the  'orse, 
but  the  'ammer,  'ammer,  'ammer  on  the  'ard  'ighway,'  and 
our  stable-boy  makes  the  same  remark  without  suffocating 
a  single  h,  these  two  people  are  manifestly  talking  two  dif 
ferent  languages.  But  if  the  signs  are  to  be  trusted,  even 
your  educated  classes  used  to  drop  the  h.  They  say  hum 
ble,  now,  and  heroic,  and  historic,  etc.,  but  I  judge  that  they 
used  to  drop  those  ^'s  because  your  writers  still  keep  up 
the  fashion  of  putting  an  before  those  words,  instead  of  a. 
This  is  what  Mr.  Darwin  might  call  a  'rudimentary'  sign 
that  an  an  was  justifiable  once,  and  useful  —  when  your  edu 
cated  classes  used  to  say  Bumble,  and  ''eroic,  and  'istorical. 
Correct  writers  of  the  American  language  do  not  put  an  be 
fore  those  words." 

The  English  gentleman  had  something  to  say  upon  this 
matter,  but  never  mind  what  he  said  —  I'm  not  arguing  his 
case.  I  have  him  at  a  disadvantage,  now.  I  proceeded  : — 

"  In  England  you  encourage  an  orator  by  exclaiming 
'  H'yaah  !  h'yaah  !'  We  pronounce  it  heer  in  some  sections, 
'ttyer'  in  others,  and  so  on;  but  our  whites  do  not  say 
'h'yaah,'  pronouncing  the  a's  like  the  a  in  ah.  I  have 


37i 

heard  English  ladies  say  :  don't  you  ' — making  two  separate 
and  distinct  words  of  it ;  your  Mr.  Burnand  has  satirized 
it.  But  we  always  say  'dontchu.'  This  is  much  better. 
Your  ladies  say,  '  Oh,  it's  0ful  nice  !'  Ours  say,  *  Oh,  it's 
awful  nice!'  We  say,  ' Four  hundred,'  you  say  'For' — as 
in  the  word  or.  Your  clergymen  speak  of  *  the  Lawd,'  ours 
of  'the  Lord;'  yours  speak  of  'the  gawds  of  the  heathen/ 
ours  of  *  the  gods  of  the  heathen.'  When  you  are  exhaust 
ed,  you  say  you  are  c  knocked  up.'  We  don't.  When  you 
say  you  will  do  a  thing  '  directly,'  you  mean  '  immediately '; 
in  the  American  language — generally  speaking — the  word 
signifies  '  after  a  little.'  When  you  say  '  clever,'  you  mean 
*  capable  ' ;  with  us  the  word  used  to  mean  '  accommodat 
ing,'  but  I  don't  know  what  it  means  now.  Your  word 
'stout'  means  'fleshy';  our  word  stout'  usually  means 
'strong.'  Your  words  'gentleman  ;  and  '  lady'  have  a  very 
restricted  meaning;  with  us  they  include  the  bar-maid, 
butcher,  burglar,  harlot,  and  horse- thief.  You  say,  'I 
haven't  got  any  stockings  on,  '  I  haven't  got  any  memory,' 
'  I  haven't  got  any  money  in  my  purse ';  we  usually  say,  '  I 
haven't  any  stockings  on,'  '  I  haven't  any  memory,'  '  I 
haven't  any  money  in  my  purse/  You  say  'out  of  win 
dow  ;'  we  always  put  in  a  the.  If  one  asks  '  How  old  is 
that  man  ?'  the  Briton  answers  '  He  will  be  about  forty ;' 
in  the  American  language,  we  should  say,  '  He  is  about 
forty.'  However,  I  won't  tire  you,  sir ;  but  if  I  wanted 
to,  I  could  pile  up  differences  here  until  I  not  only  con 
vinced  you  that  English  and  American  are  separate  lan 
guages,  but  that  when  I  speak  my  native  tongue  in  its 
utmost  purity  an  Englishman  can't  understand  me  at 
all." 

"  I  don't  wish  to  flatter  you,  but  it  is  about  all  I  can  do 
to  understand  you  now" 

That  was  a  very  pretty  compliment,  and  it  put  us  on  the 


372 

pleasantest  terms  directly  — I  use  the  word  in  the  English 
sense. 


are 


\Later— 1882.      Esthetes  in  many  of  our    schools 
now  beginning  to  teach  the  pupils  to  broaden  the  a,  and  to 
say  "don't  you,"  in  the  elegant  foreign  way.] 


ROGERS 


THIS  man   Rogers  happened  upon  me  and  introduced 

himself  at  the  town  of ,  in  the  South  of  England,  where 

I  stayed  awhile.  His  step-father  had  married  a  distant  rela 
tive  of  mine  who  was  afterwards  hanged,  and  so  he  seemed 
to  think  a  blood  relationship  existed  between  us.  He  came 
in  every  day  and  sat  down  and  talked.  Of  all  the  bland, 
serene  human  curiosities  I  ever  saw,  I  think  he  was  the 
chiefest.  He  desired  to  look  at  my  new  chimney-pot  hat. 
I  was  very  willing,  for  I  thought  he  would  notice  the  name 
of  the  great  Oxford  Street  hatter  in  it,  and  respect  me  ac 
cordingly.  But  he  turned  it  about  with  a  sort  of  grave 
compassion,  pointed  out  two  or  three  blemishes,  and  said 
that  I,  being  so  recently  arrived,  could  not  be  expected  to 
know  where  to  supply  myself.  Said  he  would  send  me  the 
address  of  his  hatter.  Then  he  said,  "  Pardon  me,"  and 
proceeded  to  cut  a  neat  circle  of  red  tissue-paper ;  daintily 
notched  the  edges  of  it ;  took  the  mucilage  and  pasted  it 
in  my  hat  so  as  to  cover  the  manufacturer's  name.  He 
said,  "No  one  will  know  now  where  you  got  it.  I  will  send 
you  a  hat-tip  of  my  hatter,  and  you  can  paste  it  over  this 
tissue  circle."  It  was  the  calmest,  coolest  thing — I  never 
admired  a  man  so  much  in  my  life.  Mind,  he  did  this 
while  his  own  hat  sat  offensively  near  our  noses,  on  the 
table  —  an  ancient  extinguisher  of  the  "  slouch  "  pattern, 


374 

limp  and  shapeless  with  age,  discolored  by  vicissitudes  of 
the  weather,  and  banded  by  an  equator  of  bear's  grease 
that  had  stewed  through. 

Another  time  he  examined  my  coat.  I  had  no  terrors, 
for  over  my  tailor's  door  was  the  legend,  "  By  Special  Ap 
pointment  Tailor  to  H.  R.  H.  the  Prince  of  Wales,"  etc.  I 
did  not  know  at  the  time  that  the  most  of  the  tailor  shops 
had  the  same  sign  out,  and  that  whereas  it  takes  nine 
tailors  to  make  an  ordinary  man,  it  takes  a  hundred  and 
fifty  to  make  a  prince.  He  was  full  of  compassion  for  my 
coat.  Wrote  down  the  address  of  his  tailor  for  me.  Did 
not  tell  me  to  mention  my  nom  de  plume  and  the  tailor 
would  put  his  best  work  on  my  garment,  as  complimentary 
people  sometimes  do,  but  said  his  tailor  would  hardly 
trouble  himself  for  an  unknown  person  (unknown  person, 
when  I  thought  I  was  so  celebrated  in  England ! — that  was 
the  cruelest  cut),  but  cautioned  me  to  mention  his  name, 
and  it  would  be  all  right.  Thinking  to  be  facetious,  I 
said — 

"  But  he  might  sit  up  all  night  and  injure  his  health." 

"Well,  let  him,"  said  Rogers;  "I've  done  enough  for 
him,  for  him  to  show  some  appreciation  of  it." 

I  might  as  well  have  tried  to  disconcert  a  mummy  with 
my  facetiousness.  Said  Rogers  :  "  I  get  all  my  coats  there 
— they're  the  only  coats  fit  to  be  seen  in." 

I  made  one  more  attempt.  I  said,  "  I  wish  you  had 
brought  one  with  you — I  would  like  to  look  at  it." 

"Bless  your  heart,  haven't  I  got  one  on  ? — this  article  is 
Morgan's  make." 

I  examined  it.  The  coat  had  been  bought  ready-made, 
of  a  Chatham  Street  Jew,  without  any  question — about  18481 
It  probably  cost  four  dollars  when  it  was  new.  It  was 
ripped,  it  was  frayed,  it  was  napless  and  greasy.  I  could 
not  resist  showing  him  where  it  was  ripped.  It  so  affected 


375 

him  that  I  was  almost  sorry  I  had  done  it.  First  he  seemed 
plunged  into  a  bottomless  abyss  of  grief.  Then  he  roused 
himself,  made  a  feint  with  his  hands  as  if  waving  off  the 
pity  of  a  nation,  and  said  —  with  what  seemed  to  me  a 
manufactured  emotion — "No  matter;  no  matter;  don't 
mind  me;  do  not  bother  about  it.  I  can  get  another." 

When  he  was  thoroughly  restored,  so  that  he  could  ex 
amine  the  rip  and  command  his  feelings,  he  said,  ah,  now 
he  understood  it — his  servant  must  have  done  it  while 
dressing  him  that  morning. 

His  servant!  There  was  something  awe-inspiring  in 
effrontery  like  this. 

Nearly  every  day  he  interested  himself  in  some  article  of 
my  clothing.  One  would  hardly  have  expected  this  sort  of 
infatuation  in  a  man  who  always  wore  the  same  suit,  and  it 
a  suit  that  seemed  coeval  with  the  Conquest. 

It  was  an  unworthy  ambition,  perhaps,  but  I  did  wish  I 
could  make  this  man  admire  something  about  me  or  some 
thing  I  did  —  you  would  have  felt  the  same  way.  I  saw 
my  opportunity :  I  was  about  to  return  to  London,  and  had 
"  listed  "  my  soiled  linen  for  the  wash.  It  made  quite  an 
imposing  mountain  in  the  corner  of  the  room — fifty -four 
pieces.  I  hoped  he  would  fancy  it  was  the  accumulation 
of  a  single  week.  I  took  up  the  wash-list,  as  if  to  see  that 
it  was  all  right,  and  then  tossed  it  on  the  table,  with  pre 
tended  forgetfulness.  Sure  enough,  he  took  it  up  and  ran 
his  eye  along  down  to  the  grand  total.  Then  he  said,  "  You 
get  off  easy,"  and  laid  it  down  again. 

His  gloves  were  the  saddest  ruin,  but  he  told  me  where 
I  could  get  some  like  them.  His  shoes  would  hardly  hold 
walnuts  without  leaking,  but  he  liked  to  put  his  feet  up  on 
the  mantel-piece  and  contemplate  them.  He  wore  a  dim 
glass  breastpin,  which  he  called  a  "  morphylitic  diamond" 
— whatever  that  may  mean — and  said  only  two  of  them  had 


376 

ever  been   found — the  Emperor  of  China  had  the  other 
one. 

Afterward,  in  London,  it  was  a  pleasure  to  me  to  see  this 
fantastic  vagabond  come  marching  into  the  lobby  of  the 
hotel  in  his  grand-ducal  way,  for  he  always  had  some  new 
imaginary  grandeur  to  develop  —  there  was  nothing  stale 
about  him  but  his  clothes.  If  he  addressed  me  when 
strangers  were  about,  he  always  raised  his  voice  a  little 
and  called  me  "Sir  Richard,"  or  "General,"  or  "Your 
Lordship" — and  when  people  began  to  stare  and  look  def 
erential,  he  would  fall  to  inquiring  in  a  casual  way  why  I 
disappointed  the  Duke  of  Argyll  the  night  before;  and 
then  remind  me  of  our  engagement  at  the  Duke  of  West 
minster's  for  the  following  day.  I  think  that  for  the  time 
being  these  things  were  realities  to  him.  He  once  came 
and  invited  me  to  go  with  him  and  spend  the  evening  with 
the  Earl  of  Warwick  at  his  town  house.  I  said  I  had  re 
ceived  no  formal  invitation.  He  said  that  that  was  of  no 
consequence,  the  Earl  had  no  formalities  for  him  or  his 
friends.  I  asked  if  I  could  go  just  as  I  was.  He  said  no, 
that  would  hardly  do ;  evening  dress  was  requisite  at  night 
in  any  genHeman's  house.  He  said  he  would  wait  while  I 
dressed,  and  then  we  would  go  to  his  apartments  and  I 
could  take  a  bottle  of  champagne  and  a  cigar  while  he 
dressed.  I  was  very  willing  to  see  how  this  enterprise 
would  turn  out,  so  I  dressed,  and  we  started  to  his  lodg 
ings.  He  said  if  I  didn't  mind  we  would  walk.  So  we 
tramped  some  four  miles  through  the  mud  and  fog,  and 
finally  found  his  "  apartments ;"  they  consisted  of  a  single 
room  over  a  barber's  shop  in  a  back  street.  Two  chairs,  a 
small  table,  an  ancient  valise,  a  wash-basin  and  pitcher 
(both  on  the  floor  in  a  corner),  an  unmade  bed,  a  fragment 
of  a  looking-glass,  and  a  flower-pot  with  a  perishing  little 
rose  geranium  in  it,  which  he  called  a  century  plant,  and 


377 

said  it  had  not  bloomed  now  for  upwards  of  two  centuries 
— given  to  him  by  the  late  Lord  Palmerston — (been  offered 
a  prodigious  sum  for  it)  —  these  were  the  contents  of  the 
room.  Also  a  brass  candlestick  and  part  of  a  candle. 
Rogers  lit  the  candle,  and  told  me  to  sit  down  and  make 
myself  at  home.  He  said  he  hoped  I  was  thirsty,  because 
he  would  surprise  my  palate  with  an  article  of  champagne 
that  seldom  got  into  a  commoner's  system ;  or  would  I  pre 
fer  sherry,  or  port  ?  Said  he  had  port  in  bottles  that  were 
swathed  in  stratified  cobwebs,  every  stratum  representing 
a  generation.  And  as  for  his  cigars  —  well,  I  should  judge 
of  them  myself.  Then  he  put  his  head  out  at  the  door  and 
called— 

"  Sackville !"     No  answer. 

"  Hi !— Sackville  !"     No  answer. 

"  Now  what  the  devil  can  have  become  of  that  butler  ?  I 
never  allow  a  servant  to —  Oh,  confound  that  idiot,  he's  got 
the  keys.  Can't  get  into  the  other  rooms  without  the  keys." 

(I  was  just  wondering  at  his  intrepidity  in  still  keeping 
up  the  delusion  of  the  champagne,  and  trying  to  imagine 
how  he  was  going  to  get  out  of  the  difficulty.) 

Now  he  stopped  calling  Sackville  and  began  to  call 
"  Anglesy."  But  Anglesy  didn't  come.  He  said,  "  This  is 
the  second  time  that  that  equerry  has  been  absent  without 
leave.  To-morrow  I'll  discharge  him." 

Now  he  began  to  whoop  for  "Thomas,"  but  Thomas  didn't 
answer.  Then  for  "  Theodore,"  but  no  Theodore  replied. 

"Well,  I  give  it  up,"  said  Rogers.  "The  servants  never 
expect  me  at  this  hour,  and  so  they're  all  off  on  a  lark. 
Might  get  along  without  the  equerry  and  the  page,  but 
can't  have  any  wine  or  cigars  without  the  butler,  and  can't 
dress  without  my  valet." 

1  offered  to  help  him  dress,  but  he  would  not  hear  of  it ; 
and  besides,  he  said  he  would  not  feel  comfortable  unless 


378 

dressed  by  a  practised  hand.  However,  he  finally  con 
cluded  that  he  was  such  old  friends  with  the  Earl  that  it 
would  not  make  any  difference  how  he  was  dressed.  So  we 
took  a  cab,  he  gave  the  driver  some  directions,  and  we 
started.  By  and-by  we  stopped  before  a  large  house  and 
got  out.  I  never  had  seen  this  man  with  a  collar  on.  He 
now  stepped  under  a  lamp  and  got  a  venerable  paper  collar 
out  of  his  coat-pocket,  along  with  a  hoary  cravat,  and  put 
them  on.  He  ascended  the  stoop,  and  entered.  Presently 
he  reappeared,  descended  rapidly,  and  said — 

"  Come— quick !" 

We  hurried  away,  and  turned  the  corner. 

"  Now  we're  safe,"  he  said,  and  took  off  his  collar  and 
cravat  and  returned  them  to  his  pocket. 

"  Made  a  mighty  narrow  escape,"  said  he. 

"  How  ?"  said  I. 

"  B'  George,  the  Countess  was  there !" 

"  Well,  what  of  that  ?— don't  she  know  you  ?" 

"  Know  me  ?  Absolutely  worships  me.  I  just  did  hap 
pen  to  catch  a  glimpse  of  her  before  she  saw  me — and  out 
I  shot.  Haven't  seen  her  for  two  months — to  rush  in  on 
her  without  any  warning  might  have  been  fatal.  She  could 
not  have  stood  it.  I  didn't  know  she  was  in  town — thought 
she  was  at  the  castle.  Let  me  lean  on  you — just  a  moment 
— there ;  now  I  am  better — thank  you ;  thank  you  ever  so 
much.  Lord  bless  me,  what  an  escape  !" 

So  I  never  got  to  call  on  the  Earl  after  all.  But  I  marked 
his  house  for  future  reference.  It  proved  to  be  an  ordinary 
family  hotel,  with  about  a  thousand  plebeians  roosting  in  it. 

In  most  things  Rogers  was  by  no  means  a  fool.  In 
some  things  it  was  plain  enough  that  he  was  a  fool,  but  he 
certainly  did  not  know  it.  He  was  in  the  "  deadest "  ear 
nest  in  these  matters.  He  died  at  sea,  last  summer,  as  the 
"  Earl  of  Ramsgate." 


THE  LOVES  OF  ALONZO  FITZ  CLARENCE 
AND  ROSANNAH  ETHELTON 


IT  was  well  along  in  the  forenoon  of  a  bitter  winter's  day. 
The  town  of  Eastport,  in  the  State  of  Maine,  lay  buried 
under  a  deep  snow  that  was  newly  fallen.  The  customary 
bustle  in  the  streets  was  wanting.  One  could  look  long 
distances  down  them  and  see  nothing  but  a  dead -white 
emptiness,  with  silence  to  match.  Of  course  I  do  not 
mean  that  you  could  see  the  silence  —  no,  you  could  only 
hear  it.  The  sidewalks  were  merely  long,  deep  ditches, 
with  steep  snow  walls  on  either  side.  Here  and  there  you 
might  hear  the  faint,  far  scrape  of  a  wooden  shovel,  and  if 
you  were  quick  enough  you  might  catch  a  glimpse  of  a  dis 
tant  black  figure  stooping  and  disappearing  in  one  of  those 
ditches,  and  reappearing  the  next  moment  with  a  motion 
which  you  would  know  meant  the  heaving  out  of  a  shovel 
ful  of  snow.  But  you  needed  to  be  quick,  for  that  black 
figure  would  not  linger,  but  would  soon  drop  that  shovel 
and  scud  for  the  house,  thrashing  itself  with  its  arms  to 
warm  them.  Yes,  it  was  too  venomously  cold  for  snow- 
shovellers  or  anybody  else  to  stay  out  long. 

Presently  the  sky  darkened  ;  then  the  wind  rose  and  be 
gan  to  blow  in  fitful,  vigorous  gusts,  which  sent  clouds  of 
powdery  snow  aloft,  and  straight  ahead,  and  everywhere. 
Under  the  impulse  of  one  of  these  gusts,  great  white  drifts 


banked  themselves  like  graves  across  the  streets ;  a  mo 
ment  later,  another  gust  shifted  them  around  the  other 
way,  driving  a  fine  spray  of  snow  from  their  sharp  crests, 
as  the  gale  drives  the  spume  flakes  from  wave-crests  at  sea ; 
a  third  gust  swept  that  place  as  clean  as  your  hand,  if  it 
saw  fit.  This  was  fooling,  this  was  play ;  but  each  and  all 
of  the  gusts  dumped  some  snow  into  the  sidewalk  ditches, 
for  that  was  business. 

Alonzo  Fitz  Clarence  was  sitting  in  his  snug  and  elegant 
little  parlor,  in  a  lovely  blue  silk  dressing-gown,  with  cuffs 
and  facings  of  crimson  satin,  elaborately  quilted.  The  re 
mains  of  his  breakfast  were  before  him,  and  the  dainty  and 
costly  little  table  service  added  a  harmonious  charm  to  the 
grace,  beauty,  and  richness  of  the  fixed  appointments  of 
the  room.  A  cheery  fire  was  blazing  on  the  hearth. 

A  furious  gust  of  wind  shook  the  windows,  and  a  great 
wave  of  snow  washed  against  them  with  a  drenching  sound, 
so  to  speak.  The  handsome  young  bachelor  murmured — 

"  That  means,  no  going  out  to-day.  Well,  I  am  content. 
But  what  to  do  for  company  ?  Mother  is  well  enough,  Aunt 
Susan  is  well  enough ;  but  these,  like  the  poor,  I  have  with 
me  always.  On  so  grim  a  day  as  this,  one  needs  a  new  in 
terest,  a  fresh  element,  to  whet  the  dull  edge  of  captivity. 
That  was  very  neatly  said,  but  it  doesn't  mean  anything. 
One  doesn't  want  the  edge  of  captivity  sharpened  up,  you 
know,  but  just  the  reverse." 

He  glanced  at  his  pretty  French  mantel-clock. 

"  That  clock's  wrong  again.  That  clock  hardly  ever 
knows  what  time  it  is  ;  and  when  it  does  know,  it  lies  about 
it — which  amounts  to  the  same  thing.  Alfred  !" 

There  was  no  answer. 

"Alfred!  .  .  .  Good  servant,  but  as  uncertain  as  the 
clock." 

Alonzo  touched  an  electric-bell  button  in  the  wall.     He 


waited  a  moment,  then  touched  it  again  ;  waited  a  few  mo 
ments  more,  and  said — 

"  Battery  out  of  order,  no  doubt.  But  now  that  I  have 
started,  I  will  find  out  what  time  it  is."  He  stepped  to 
a  speaking  -  tube  in  the  wall,  blew  its  whistle,  and  called, 
"  Mother  !"  and  repeated  it  twice. 

"Well,  that's  no  use.  Mother's  battery  is  out  of  order, 
too.  Can't  raise  anybody  down-stairs — that  is  plain." 

He  sat  down  at  a  rosewood  desk,  leaned  his  chin  on  the 
left-hand  edge  of  it,  and  spoke,  as  if  to  the  floor:  "Aunt 
Susan  !" 

A  low,  pleasant  voice  answered,  "  Is  that  you,  Alonzo  ?" 

"  Yes.  I'm  too  lazy  and  comfortable  to  go  down-stairs ; 
I  am  in  extremity,  and  I  can't  seem  to  scare  up  any  help." 

"  Dear  me,  what  is  the  matter  ?" 

"  Matter  enough,  I  can  tell  you !" 

"  Oh,  don't  keep  me  in  suspense,  dear !     What  is  it  ?" 

"  I  want  to  know  what  time  it  is." 

"  You  abominable  boy,  what  a  turn  you  did  give  me !  Is 
that  all?" 

"  All — on  my  honor.  Calm  yourself.  Tell  me  the  time, 
and  receive  my  blessing." 

"Just  five  minutes  after  nine.  No  charge — keep  your 
blessing." 

"Thanks.  It  wouldn't  have  impoverished  me,  aunty,  nor 
so  enriched  you  that  you  could  live  without  other  means." 
He  got  up,  murmuring,  "  Just  five  minutes  after  nine,"  and 
faced  his  clock.  "Ah,"  said  he,  "you  are  doing  better 
than  usual.  You  are  only  thirty-four  minutes  wrong.  Let 
me  see  ...  let  me  see.  .  .  .  Thirty-three  and  twenty-one 
are  fifty -four;  four  times  fifty -four  are  two  hundred  and 
thirty-six.  One  off,  leaves  two  hundred  and  thirty-five. 
That's  right." 

He  turned  the  hands  of  his  clock  forward  till  they  marked 

25  TS 


382 


twenty-five  minutes  to  one,  and  said,  "  Now  see  if  you  can't 
keep  right  for  a  while  .  .  .  else  I'll  raffle  you !" 

He  sat  down  at  the  desk  again,  and  said,  "  Aunt  Susan  1" 

"  Yes,  dear." 

"  Had  breakfast  ?" 

'•'  Yes  indeed,  an  hour  ago." 

"  Busy  ?" 

"  No — except  sewing.     Why  ?" 

"Got  any  company?" 

"  No,  but  I  expect  some  at  half-past  nine." 

"  I  wish  /  did.  I'm  lonesome.  I  want  to  talk  to  some 
body." 

"Very  well,  talk  to  me." 

"But  this  is  very  private." 

"Don't  be  afraid  —  talk  right  along,  there's  nobody  here 
but  me." 

"  I  hardly  know  whether  to  venture  or  not,  but — " 

"  But  what?  Oh,  don't  stop  there  !  You  know  you  can 
trust  me,  Alonzo — you  know  you  can." 

"  I  feel  it,  aunt,  but  this  is  very  serious.  It  affects  me  deep 
ly —  me,  and  all  the  family  —  even  the  whole  community." 

"  Oh,  Alonzo,  tell  me !  I  will  never  breathe  a  word  of  it. 
What  is  it?" 

"  Aunt,  if  I  might  dare-—" 

"  Oh,  please  go  on  !  I  love  you,  and  feel  for  you.  Tell 
me  all.  Confide  in  me.  What  is  it  ?" 

"The  weather!" 

"Plague  take  the  weather!  I  don't  see  how  you  can 
have  the  heart  to  serve  me  so,  Lon." 

"There,  there,  aunty  dear,  I'm  sorry;  I  am,  on  my  honor. 
I  won't  do  it  again.  Do  you  forgive  me  ?" 

"Yes,  since  you  seem  so  sincere  about  it,  though  I  know 
I  oughtn't  to.  You  will  fool  me  again  as  soon  as  I  have 
forgotten  this  time." 


*  No,  I  won't,  honor  bright.  But  such  weather,  oh,  such 
weather !  You've  got  to  keep  your  spirits  up  artificially. 
It  is  snowy,  and  blowy,  and  gusty,  and  bitter  cold !  How 
is  the  weather  with  you  ?" 

"  Warm  and  rainy  and  melancholy.  The  mourners  go 
about  the  streets  with  their  umbrellas  running  streams  from 
the  end  of  every  whalebone.  There's  an  elevated  double 
pavement  of  umbrellas  stretching  down  the  sides  of  the 
streets  as  far  as  I  can  see.  I've  got  a  fire  for  cheerfulness, 
and  the  windows  open  to  keep  cool.  But  it  is  vain,  it  is 
useless:  nothing  comes  in  but  the  balmy  breath  of  De 
cember,  with  its  burden  of  mocking  odors  from  the  flowers 
that  possess  the  realm  outside,  and  rejoice  in  their  lawless 
profusion  whilst  the  spirit  of  man  is  low,  and  flaunt  their 
gaudy  splendors  in  his  face  whilst  his  soul  is  clothed  in 
sackcloth  and  ashes  and  his  heart  breaketh." 

Alonzo  opened  his  lips  to  say,  "  You  ought  to  print  that, 
and  get  it  framed,"  but  checked  himself,  for  he  heard  his 
aunt  speaking  to  some  one  else.  He  went  and  stood  at  the 
window  and  looked  out  upon  the  wintry  prospect.  The 
storm  was  driving  the  snow  before  it  more  furiously  than 
ever ,  window-shutters  were  slamming  and  banging ;  a  for 
lorn  dog,  with  bowed  head  and  tail  withdrawn  from  ser 
vice,  was  pressing  his  quaking  body  against  a  windward 
wall  for  shelter  and  protection  ,  a  young  girl  was  ploughing 
knee-deep  through  the  drifts,  with  her  face  turned  from  the 
blast,  and  the  cape  of  her  water-proof  blowing  straight  rear 
ward  over  her  head.  Alonzo  shuddered,  and  said  with  a 
sigh,  "  Better  the  slop,  and  the  sultry  rain,  and  even  the  in 
solent  flowers,  than  this  !" 

He  turned  from  the  window,  moved  a  step,  and  stopped 
in  a  listening  attitude.  The  faint,  sweet  notes  of  a  familiar 
song  caught  his  ear.  He  remained  there,  with  his  head  un 
consciously  bent  forward,  drinking  in  the  melody,  stirring 


384 

neither  hand  nor  foot,  hardly  breathing.  There  was  a  "blem 
ish  in  the  execution  of  the  song,  but  to  Alonzo  it  seemed 
an  added  charm  instead  of  a  defect.  This  blemish  consist 
ed  of  a  marked  flatting  of  the  third,  fourth,  fifth,  sixth,  and 
seventh  notes  of  the  refrain  or  chorus  of  the  piece.  When 
the  music  ended,  Alonzo  drew  a  deep  breath,  and  said, 
"Ah,  I  never  have  heard  'In  the  Sweet  By-and-by'  sung 
like  that  before !" 

He  stepped  quickly  to  the  desk,  listened  a  moment,  and 
said  in  a  guarded,  confidential  voice,  "  Aunty,  who  is  this 
divine  singer  ?" 

"  She  is  the  company  I  was  expecting.  Stays  with  me  a 
month  or  two.  I  will  introduce  you.  Miss — " 

"  For  goodness'  sake,  wait  a  moment,  Aunt  Susan  !  You 
never  stop  to  think  what  you  are  about !" 

He  flew  to  his  bed-chamber,  and  returned  in  a  moment 
perceptibly  changed  in  his  outward  appearance,  and  re 
marking,  snappishly — 

"  Hang  it,  she  would  have  introduced  me  to  this  angel  in 
that  sky-blue  dressing-gown  with  red-hot  lapels  1  Women 
never  think,  when  they  get  a-going." 

He  hastened  and  stood  by  the  desk,  and  said  eagerly, 
"Now,  Aunty,  I  am  ready,"  and  fell  to  smiling  and  bow 
ing  with  all  the  persuasiveness  and  elegance  that  were  in 
him." 

"  Very  well.  Miss  Rosannah  Ethelton,  let  me  introduce 
to  you  my  favorite  nephew,  Mr.  Alonzo  Fitz  Clarence. 
There  !  You  are  both  good  people,  and  I  like  you ;  so  I 
am  going  to  trust  you  together  while  I  attend  to  a  few 
household  affairs.  Sit  down,  Rosannah ;  sit  down,  Alonzo. 
Good-by ;  I  sha'n't  be  gone  long." 

Alonzo  had  been  bowing  and  smiling  all  the  while,  and 
motioning  imaginary  young  ladies  to  sit  down  in  imaginary 
chairs,  but  now  he  took  a  seat  himself,  mentally  saying, 


385 

"  Oh,  this  is  luck !     Let  the  winds  blow  now,  and  the  snow 
drive,  and  the  heavens  frown  !     Little  I  care  !" 

While  these  young  people  chat  themselves  into  an  ac 
quaintanceship,  let  us  take  the  liberty  of  inspecting  the 
sweeter  and  fairer  of  the  two.  She  sat  alone,  at  her  grace 
ful  ease,  in  a  richly  furnished  apartment  which  was  mani 
festly  the  private  parlor  of  a  refined  and  sensible  lady,  if 
signs  and  symbols  may  go  for  anything.  For  instance,  by 
a  low,  comfortable  chair  stood  a  dainty,  top-heavy  work- 
stand,  whose  summit  was  a  fancifully  embroidered  shal 
low  basket,  with  varicolored  crewels,  and  other  strings  and 
odds  and  ends,  protruding  from  under  the  gaping  lid  and 
hanging  down  in  negligent  profusion.  On  the  floor  lay 
bright  shreds  of  Turkey  red,  Prussian  blue,  and  kindred 
fabrics,  bits  of  ribbon,  a  spool  or  two,  a  pair  of  scissors, 
and  a  roll  or  so  of  tinted  silken  stuffs.  On  a  luxurious 
sofa,  upholstered  with  some  sort  of  soft  Indian  goods 
wrought  in  black  and  gold  threads  interwebbed  with  other 
threads  not  so  pronounced  in  color,  lay  a  great  square  of 
coarse  white  stuff,  upon  whose  surface  a  rich  bouquet  of 
flowers  was  growing,  under  the  deft  cultivation  of  the  cro 
chet  needle.  The  household  cat  was  asleep  on  this  work 
of  art.  In  a  bay-window  stood  an  easel  with  an  unfinished 
picture  on  it,  and  a  palette  and  brushes  on  a  chair  beside 
it.  There  were  books  everywhere:  Robertson's  Sermons, 
Tennyson,  Moody  and  Sankey,  Hawthorne,  "  Rab  and  his 
Friends,"  cook-books,  prayer-books,  pattern  -  books — and 
books  about  all  kinds  of  odious  and  exasperating  pottery, 
of  course.  There  was  a  piano,  with  a  deck-load  of  music, 
and  more  in  a  tender.  There  was  a  great  plenty  of  pictures 
on  the  walls,  on  the  shelves  of  the  mantel-piece,  and  around 
generally ;  where  coigns  of  vantage  offered  were  statuettes, 
and  quaint  and  pretty  gimcracks,  and  rare  and  costly  speci- 
Dens  of  peculiarly  devilish  china.  The  bay-window  gave 


j86_ 

upon  a  garden  that  was  ablaze  with  foreign  and  domestic 
flowers  and  flowering  shrubs. 

But  the  sweet  young  girl  was  the  daintiest  thing  these 
premises,  within  or  without,  could  offer  for  contemplation  ; 
delicately  chiselled  features,  of  Grecian  cast ;  her  complex 
ion  the  pure  snow  of  a  japonica  that  is  receiving  a  faint 
reflected  enrichment  from  some  scarlet  neighbor  of  the 
garden ;  great,  soft  blue  eyes  fringed  with  long,  curving 
lashes;  an  expression  made  up  of  the  trustfulness  of  a 
child  and  the  gentleness  of  a  fawn ;  a  beautiful  head 
crowned  with  its  own  prodigal  gold ;  a  lithe  and  rounded 
figure,  whose  every  attitude  and  movement  were  instinct 
with  native  grace. 

Her  dress  and  adornment  were  marked  by  that  exquisite 
harmony  that  can  come  only  of  a  fine  natural  taste  perfect 
ed  by  culture.  Her  gown  was  of  a  simple  magenta  tulle, 
cut  bias,  traversed  by  three  rows  of  light  blue  flounces, 
with  the  selvage  edges  turned  up  with  ashes-of-roses  che 
nille  ;  overdress  of  dark  bay  tarlatan,  with  scarlet  satin 
lambrequins;  corn-colored  polonaise,  en panier,  looped  with 
mother-of-pearl  buttons  and  silver  cord,  and  hauled  aft  and 
made  fast  by  buff-velvet  lashings  ;  basque  of  lavender  reps, 
picked  out  with  Valenciennes  ;  low  neck,  short  sleeves;  ma 
roon-velvet  necktie  edged  with  delicate  pink  silk  ;  inside 
handkerchief  of  some  simple  three-ply  ingrain  fabric  of  a 
soft  saffron  tint ;  coral  bracelets  and  locket-chain  ;  coiffure 
of  forget-me-nots  and  lilies  of  the  valley  massed  around  a 
noble  calla. 

This  was  all ;  yet  even  in  this  subdued  attire  she  was 
divinely  beautiful.  Then  what  must  she  have  been  when 
adorned  for  the  festival  or  the  ball  ? 

All  this  time  she  had  been  busily  chatting  with  Alonzo, 
unconscious  of  our  inspection.  The  minutes  still  sped,  and 
still  she  talked.  But  by-and-by  she  happened  to  look  up, 


387 

and  saw  the  clock.  A  crimson  blush  sent  its  rich  flood 
through  her  cheeks,  and  she  exclaimed— 

"There,  good-by,  Mr.  Fitz  Clarence;  I  must  go  now!" 

She  sprang  from  her  chair  with  such  haste  that  she 
hardly  heard  the  young  man's  answering  good-by.  She 
stood  radiant,  graceful,  beautiful,  and  gazed,  wondering, 
upon  the  accusing  clock.  Presently  her  pouting  lips  part 
ed,  and  she  said— 

"  Five  minutes  after  eleven !  Nearly  two  hours,  and  it 
did  not  seem  twenty  minutes  !  Oh,  dear,  what  will  he  think 
of  me  !" 

At  the  self-same  moment  Alonzo  was  staring  at  his  clock. 
And  presently  he  said — 

"Twenty-five  minutes  to  three!  Nearly  two  hours,  and 
I  didn't  believe  it  was  two  minutes  !  Is  it  possible  that 
this  clock  is  humbugging  again  ?  Miss  Ethelton !  Just 
one  moment,  please.  Are  you  there  yet  ?" 

"  Yes,  but  be  quick  ;  I'm  going  right  away." 

"Would  you  be  so  kind  as  to  tell  me  what  time  it 
is?" 

The  girl  blushed  again,  murmured  to  herself,  "  It's  right 
down  cruel  of  him  to  ask  me  !"  and  then  spoke  up  and  an 
swered  with  admirably  counterfeited  unconcern,  "  Five  min 
utes  after  eleven." 

"  Oh,  thank  you  !     You  have  to  go,  now,  have  you?" 

"  Yes." 

"  I'm  sorry." 

No  reply. 

"  Miss  Ethelton !" 

"Well?" 

"  You — you're  there  yet,  ain't  you  ?" 

"Yes  ;  but  please  hurry.     What  did  you  want  to  say?" 

"Well,  I — well,  nothing  in  particular.  It's  very  lonesome 
here.  It's  asking  a  great  deal,  I  know,  but  would  you  mind 


talking  with  me  again  by -and -by  —  that  is,  if  it  will  not 
trouble  you  too  much  ?" 

"  I  don't  know— but  I'll  think  about  it.     I'll  try." 

"  Oh,  thanks  !  Miss  Ethelton  ?  ...  Ah  me,  she's  gone, 
and  here  are  the  black  clouds  and  the  whirling  snow  and 
the  raging  winds  come  again  !  But  she  said  good-by  !  She 
didn't  say  good-morning,  she  said  good-by !  .  .  .  The  clock 
was  right,  after  all.  What  a  lightning-winged  two  hours  it 
was !" 

He  sat  down,  and  gazed  dreamily  into  his  fire  for  a  while, 
then  heaved  a  sigh  and  said — 

"  How  wonderful  it  is !  Two  little  hours  ago  I  was  a 
free  man,  and  now  my  heart's  in  San  Francisco  !" 

About  that  time  Rosannah  Ethelton,  propped  in  the 
window-seat  of  her  bed-chamber,  book  in  hand,  was  gazing 
vacantly  out  over  the  rainy  seas  that  washed  the  Golden 
Gate,  and  whispering  to  herself,  "  How  different  he  is  from 
poor  Burley,  with  his  empty  head  and  his  single  little  antic 
talent  of  mimicry  1" 


II 

FOUR  weeks  later  Mr.  Sidney  Algernon  Burley  was  enter 
taining  a  gay  luncheon  company,  in  a  sumptuous  drawing- 
room  on  Telegraph  Hill,  with  some  capital  imitations  of 
the  voices  and  gestures  of  certain  popular  actors  and  San 
Franciscan  literary  people  and  Bonanza  grandees.  He  was 
elegantly  upholstered,  and  was  a  handsome  fellow,  barring 
a  trifling  cast  in  his  eye.  He  seemed  very  jovial,  but  never 
theless  he  kept  his  eye  on  the  door  with  an  expectant  and 
uneasy  watchfulness.  By-and-by  a  nobby  lackey  appeared, 
and  delivered  a  message  to  the  mistress,  who  nodded  her 
head  understandingly.  That  seemed  to  settle  the  thing  for 
Mr.  Burley;  his  vivacity  decreased  little  by  little,  and  a  de 
jected  look  began  to  creep  into  one  of  his  eyes  and  a  sin 
ister  one  into  the  other. 

The  rest  of  the  company  departed  in  due  time,  leaving 
him  with  the  mistress,  to  whom  he  said — 

"  There  is  no  longer  any  question  about  it.  She  avoids 
me.  She  continually  excuses  herself.  If  I  could  see  her, 
if  I  could  speak  to  her  only  a  moment  — but  this  sus 
pense—" 

"  Perhaps  her  seeming  avoidance  is  mere  accident,  Mr. 
Burley.  Go  to  the  small  drawing-room  up-stairs  and  amuse 
yourself  a  moment.  I  will  despatch  a  household  order 
that  is  on  my  mind,  and  then  I  will  go  to  her  room.  With 
out  doubt  she  will  be  persuaded  to  see  you." 

Mr.  Burley  went  up-stairs,  intending  to  go  to  the  small 
drawing-room,  but  as  he  was  passing  "  Aunt  Susan's"  private 


39Q 

parlor,  the  door  of  which  stood  slightly  ajar,  he  heard  a 
joyous  laugh  which  he  recognized ;  so  without  knock  or 
announcement  he  stepped  confidently  in.  But  before  he 
could  make  his  presence  known  he  heard  words  that  har 
rowed  up  his  soul  and  chilled  his  young  blood.  He  heard 
a  voice  say — 

"  Darling,  it  has  come  !" 

Then  he  heard  Rosannah  Ethelton,  whose  back  was 
toward  him,  say — 

"  So  has  yours,  dearest !" 

He  saw  her  bowed  form  bend  lower ;  he  heard  her  kiss 
something  —  not  merely  once,  but  again  and  again!  His 
soul  raged  within  him.  The  heart-breaking  conversation 
went  on — 

"Rosannah,  I  knew  you  must  be  beautiful,  but  this  is 
dazzling,  this  is  blinding,  this  is  intoxicating !" 

"  Alonzo,  it  is  such  happiness  to  hear  you  say  it.  I  know 
it  is  not  true,  but  I  am  so  grateful  to  have  you  think  it  is, 
nevertheless!  I  knew  you  must  have  a  noble  face,  but  the 
grace  and  majesty  of  the  reality  beggar  the  poor  creation  of 
my  fancy." 

Burley  heard  that  rattling  shower  of  kisses  again. 

"  Thank  you,  my  Rosannah  !  The  photograph  flatters 
me,  but  you  must  not  allow  yourself  to  think  of  that. 
Sweetheart  ?" 

"  Yes,  Alonzo." 

"  I  am  so  happy,  Rosannah." 

"  Oh,  Alonzo,  none  that  have  gone  before  me  knew  what 
love  was,  none  that  come  after  me  will  ever  know  what  hap 
piness  is.  I  float  in  a  gorgeous  cloudland,  a  boundless  fir- 
manent  of  enchanted  and  bewildering  ecstasy !" 

"  Oh,  my  Rosannah  ! — for  you  are  mine,  are  you  not  ?" 

"Wholly,  oh,  wholly  yours,  Alonzo,  now  and  forever! 
All  the  day  long,  and  all  through  my  nightly  dreams,  one 


39i 

song  sings  itself,  and  its  sweet  burden  is,  c  Alonzo  fritz 
Clarence,  Alonzo  Fitz  Clarence,  Eastport,  State  of  Maine!'  * 

"  Curse  him,  I've  got  his  address,  anyway !"  roared  Bur- 
ley,  inwardly,  and  rushed  from  the  place. 

Just  behind  the  unconscious  Alonzo  stood  his  mother,  a 
picture  of  astonishment.  She  was  so  muffled  from  head  to 
heel  in  furs  that  nothing  of 'herself  was  visible  but  her  eyes 
and  nose.  She  was  a  good  allegory  of  winter,  for  she  was 
powdered  all  over  with  snow. 

Behind  the  unconscious  Rosannah  stood  "  Aunt  Susan," 
another  picture  of  astonishment.  She  was  a  good  allegory 
of  summer,  for  she  was  lightly  clad,  and  was  vigorously 
cooling  the  perspiration  on  her  face  with  a  fan. 

Both  of  these  women  had  tears  of  joy  in  their  eyes. 

"So  ho!"  exclaimed  Mrs.  Fitz  Clarence,  "this  explains 
why  nobody  has  been  able  to  drag  you  out  of  your  room 
for  six  weeks,  Alonzo  !" 

"  So  ho  1"  exclaimed  Aunt  Susan,  "  this  explains  why  you 
have  been  a  hermit  for  the  past  six  weeks,  Rosannah  !" 

The  young  couple  were  on  their  feet  in  an  instant, 
abashed,  and  standing  like  detected  dealers  in  stolen  goods 
awaiting  Judge  Lynches  doom. 

"  Bless  you,  my  son  !  I  am  happy  in  your  happiness. 
Come  to  your  mother's  arms,  Alonzo !" 

"Bless  you,  Rosannah,  for  my  dear  nephew's  sake! 
Come  to  my  arms !" 

Then  was  there  a  mingling  of  hearts  and  of  tears  of  re 
joicing  on  Telegraph  Hill  and  in  Eastport  Square. 

Servants  were  called  by  the  elders,  in  both  places.  Unto 
one  was  given  the  order,  "Pile  this  fire  high  with  hickory 
wood,  and  bring  me  a  roasting  hot  lemonade." 

Unto  the  other  was  given  the  order,  "  Put  out  this  fire, 
and  bring  me  two  palm -leaf  fans  and  a  pitcher  of  ice- 


392 

Then  the  young  people  were  dismissed,  and  the  elders 
sat  down  to  talk  the  sweet  surprise  over  and  make  the 
wedding  plans. 

Some  minutes  before  this  Mr.  Burley  rushed  from  the 
mansion  on  Telegraph  Hill  without  meeting  or  taking  for 
mal  leave  of  anybody.  He  hissed  through  his  teeth,  in  un 
conscious  imitation  of  a  popular  favorite  in  melodrama, 
"  Him  shall  she  never  wed  !  I  have  sworn  it !  Ere  great 
Nature  shall  have  doffed  her  winter's  ermine  to  don  the 
emerald  gauds  of  spring,  she  shall  be  mine  1" 


Ill 


Two  weeks  later.  Every  few  hours,  during  some  three  or 
four  days,  a  very  prim  and  devout-looking  Episcopal  clergy 
man,  with  a  cast  in  his  eye,  had  visited  Alonzo.  Accord 
ing  to  his  card,  he  was  the  Rev.  Melton  Hargrave,  of  Cin 
cinnati.  He  said  he  had  retired  from  the  ministry  on 
account  of  his  health.  If  he  had  said  on  account  of  ill- 
health,  he  would  probably  have  erred,  to  judge  by  his  whole 
some  looks  and  firm  build.  He  was  the  inventor  of  an 
improvement  in  telephones,  and  hoped  to  make  his  bread 
by  selling  the  privilege  of  using  it.  "  At  present,"  he  con 
tinued,  "  a  man  may  go  and  tap  a  telegraph  wire  which  is 
conveying  a  song  or  a  concert  from  one  State  to  another, 
and  he  can  attach  his  private  telephone  and  steal  a  hear 
ing  of  that  music  as  it  passes  along.  My  invention  will 
stop  all  that." 

"  Well,"  answered  Alonzo,  "  if  the  owner  of  the  music 
could  not  miss  what  was  stolen,  why  should  he  care?" 

"  He  shouldn't  care,"  said  the  Reverend. 

"Well?"  said  Alonzo,  inquiringly. 

"  Suppose,"  replied  the  Reverend,  "  suppose  that,  instead 
of  music  that  was  passing  along  and  being  stolen,  the  bur 
den  of  the  wire  was  loving  endearments  of  the  most  private 
and  sacred  nature  ?" 

Alonzo  shuddered  from  head  to  heel.  "  Sir,  it  is  a 
priceless  invention,"  said  he  ;  "I  must  have  it  at  any  cost." 

But  the  invention  was  delayed  somewhere  on  the  road 
from  Cincinnati,  most  unaccountably.  The  impatient  Alonzo 


394 

could  hardly  wait.  The  thought  of  Rosannah's  sweet 
words  being  shared  with  him  by  some  ribald  thief  was  gall 
ing  to  him.  The  Reverend  came  frequently  and  lamented 
the  delay,  and  told  of  measures  he  had  taken  to  hurry 
things  up.  This  was  some  little  comfort  to  Alonzo. 

One  forenoon  the  Reverend  ascended  the  stairs  and 
knocked  at  Alonzo's  door.  There  was  no  response.  He 
entered,  glanced  eagerly  around,  closed  the  door  softly, 
then  ran  to  the  telephone.  The  exquisitely  soft  and  re 
mote  strains  of  the  "Sweet  By- and -by"  came  floating 
through  the  instrument.  The  singer  was  flatting,  as  usual, 
the  five  notes  that  follow  the  first  two  in  the  chorus,  when 
the  Reverend  interrupted  her  with  this  word,  in  a  voice 
which  was  an  exact  imitation  of  Alonzo's,  with  just  the 
faintest  flavor  of  impatience  added — 

"Sweetheart?" 

"  Yes,  Alonzo  ?" 

"  Please  don't  sing  that  any  more  this  week — try  some 
thing  modern." 

The  agile  step  that  goes  with  a  happy  heart  was  heard  on 
the  stairs,  and  the  Reverend,  smiling  diabolically,  sought 
sudden  refuge  behind  the  heavy  folds  of  the  velvet  win 
dow  -  curtains.  Alonzo  entered  and  flew  to  the  telephone. 
Said  he— 

"Rosannah,  dear,  shall  we  sing  something  together?" 

"  Something  modern  ?"  asked  she,  with  sarcastic  bitter 
ness. 

"  Yes,  if  you  prefer." 

"  Sing  it  yourself,  if  you  like  !" 

This  snappishness  amazed  and  wounded  the  young  man. 
He  said — 

"  Rosannah,  that  was  not  like  you." 

"  I  suppose  it  becomes  me  as  much  as  your  very  polite 
speech  became  you,  Mr.  Fitz  Clarence." 


395 

"Mister  Fitz  Clarence!  Rosannah,  there  was  nothing 
impolite  about  my  speech." 

"  Oh,  indeed  !  Of  course,  then,  I  misunderstood  you,  and 
I  most  humbly  beg  your  pardon,  ha-ha-ha  !  No  doubt  you 
said,  '  Don't  sing  it  any  more  to-day'  " 

"  Sing  what  arty  more  to-day  ?" 

"  The  song  you  mentioned,  of  course.  How  very  obtuse 
we  are,  all  of  a  sudden  !" 

"I  never  mentioned  any  song." 

"Oh,  you  didn't  r 

"No,  I  didn't  r 

"  I  am  compelled  to  remark  that  you  did}1 

"And  I  am  obliged  to  reiterate  that  I  didn't" 

"  A  second  rudeness !  That  is  sufficient,  sir.  I  will 
never  forgive  you.  All  is  over  between  us." 

Then  came  a  muffled  sound  of  crying.  Alonzo  hastened 
to  say — 

"Oh,  Rosannah,  unsay  those  words!  There  is  some 
dreadful  mystery  here,  some  hideous  mistake.  I  am  utter 
ly  earnest  and  sincere  when  I  say  I  never  said  anything 
about  any  song.  I  would  not  hurt  you  for  the  whole 
world  .  .  .  Rosannah,  dear  ?  .  .  .  Oh,  speak  to  me,  won't 
you  ?" 

There  was  a  pause ;  then  Alonzo  heard  the  girl's  sob 
bings  retreating,  and  knew  she  had  gone  from  the  tele 
phone.  He  rose  with  a  heavy  sigh,  and  hastened  from  the 
room,  saying  to  himself,  "  I  will  ransack  the  charity  mis 
sions  and  the  haunts  of  the  poor  for  my  mother.  She  will 
persuade  her  that  I  never  meant  to  wound  her." 

A  minute  later,  the  Reverend  was  crouching  over  the 
telephone  like  a  cat  that  knoweth  the  ways  of  the  prey. 
He  had  not  very  many  minutes  to  wait.  A  soft,  repentant 
voice,  tremulous  with  tears,  said — 

"Alonzo,  dear,  I  have  been  wrong.     You  could  not  have 


396 

said  so  cruel  a  thing.    It  must  have  been  some  one  who  imi 
tated  your  voice  in  malice  or  in  jest" 

The  Reverend  coldly  answered,  in  Alonzo's  tones — 

"  You  have  said  all  was  over  between  us.  So  let  it  be.  I 
spurn  your  proffered  repentance,  and  despise  it!" 

Then  he  departed,  radiant  with  fiendish  triumph,  to  re 
turn  no  more  with  his  imaginary  telephonic  invention  for 
ever. 

Four  hours  afterward,  Alonzo  arrived  with  his  mother 
from  her  favorite  haunts  of  poverty  and  vice.  They  sum 
moned  the  San  Francisco  household ;  but  there  was  no  re 
ply.  They  waited,  and  continued  to  wait,  upon  the  voice 
less  telephone. 

At  length,  when  it  was  sunset  in  San  Francisco,  and 
three  hours  and  a  half  after  dark  in  Eastport,  an  answer 
came  to  the  oft-repeated  cry  of  "  Rosannah  !" 

But,  alas,  it  was  Aunt  Susan's  voice  that  spake.  She 
said — 

"  I  have  been  out  all  day ;  just  got  in.  I  will  go  and 
find  her." 

The  watchers  waited  two  minutes — five  minutes  — ten 
minutes.  Then  came  these  fatal  words,  in  a  frightened 
tone — 

"  She  is  gone,  and  her  baggage  with  her.  To  visit  anoth 
er  friend,  she  told  the  servants.  But  I  found  this  note  on 
the  table  in  her  room.  Listen  :  '  I  am  gone ;  seek  not  to 
trace  me  out ;  my  heart  is  broken  ;  you  will  never  see  me 
more.  Tell  him  I  shall  always  think  of  him  when  I  sing 
my  poor  "Sweet  By-and-by,"  but  never  of  the  unkind 
words  he  said  about  it.'  That  is  her  note.  Alonzo,  Alon 
zo,  what  does  it  mean  ?  What  has  happened  ?" 

But  Alonzo  sat  white  and  cold  as  the  dead.  His  mother 
threw  back  the  velvet  curtains  and  opened  a  window.  The 
cold  air  refreshed  the  sufferer,  and  he  told  his  aunt  his  dis- 


397 

mal  story.  Meantime  his  mother  was  inspecting  a  card 
which  had  disclosed  itself  upon  the  floor  when  she  cast  the 
curtains  back.  It  read,  "  Mr.  Sidney  Algernon  Burley,  San 
Francisco." 

"The  miscreant !"  shouted  Alonzo,  and  rushed  forth  to 
seek  the  false  Reverend  and  destroy  him ;  for  the  card  ex 
plained  everything,  since  in  the  course  of  the  lovers'  mutual 
confessions  they  had  told  each  other  all  about  all  the  sweet 
hearts  they  had  ever  had,  and  thrown  no  end  of  mud  at 
their  failings  and  foibles  —  for  lovers  always  do  that.  It 
has  a  fascination  that  ranks  next  after  billing  and  cooing. 

•6*1 


IV 

DURING  the  next  two  months  many  things  happened.  It 
had  early  transpired  that  Rosannah,  poor  suffering  orphan, 
had  neither  returned  to  her  grandmother  in  Portland,  Ore 
gon,  nor  sent  any  word  to  her  save  a  duplicate  of  the  woful 
note  she  had  left  in  the  mansion  on  Telegraph  Hill.  Who 
soever  was  sheltering  her — if  she  was  still  alive — had  been 
persuaded  not  to  betray  her  whereabouts,  without  doubt ; 
for  all  efforts  to  find  trace  of  her  had  failed. 

Did  Alonzo  give  her  up  ?  Not  he.  He  said  to  himself, 
"  She  will  sing  that  sweet  song  when  she  is  sad ;  I  shall 
find  her.1'  So  he  took  his  carpet  sack  and  a  portable  tele 
phone,  and  shook  the  snow  of  his  native  city  from  his  arc 
tics,  and  went  forth  into  the  world.  He  wandered  far  and 
wide  and  in  many  States.  Time  and  again,  strangers  were 
astounded  to  see  a  wasted,  pale,  and  woe-worn  man  labori 
ously  climb  a  telegraph-pole  in  wintry  and  lonely  places, 
perch  sadly  there  an  hour,  with  his  ear  at  a  little  box,  then 
come  sighing  down,  and  wander  wearily  away.  Some 
times  they  shot  at  him,  as  peasants  do  at  aeronauts,  think 
ing  him  mad  and  dangerous.  Thus  his  clothes  were  much 
shredded  by  bullets  and  his  person  grievously  lacerated. 
But  he  bore  it  all  patiently. 

In  the  beginning  of  his  pilgrimage  he  used  often  to  say, 
"Ah,  if  I  could  but  hear  the  'Sweet  By-and-by!'"  But 
toward  the  end  of  it  he  used  to  shed  tears  of  anguish  and 
say,  "Ah,  if  I  could  but  hear  something  else  !" 

Thus  a  month  and  three  weeks  drifted  by,  and  at  last 


399 

some  humane  people  seized  him  and  confined  him  in  a  pri 
vate  mad-house  in  New  York.  He  made  no  moan,  for  his 
strength  was  all  gone,  and  with  it  all  heart  and  all  hope. 
The  superintendent,  in  pity,  gave  up  his  own  comfortable 
parlor  and  bedchamber  to  him  and  nursed  him  with  affec 
tionate  devotion. 

At  the  end  of  a  week  the  patient  was  able  to  leave  his 
bed  for  the  first  time.  He  was  lying,  comfortably  pillowed, 
on  a  sofa,  listening  to  the  plaintive  Miserere  of  the  bleak 
March  winds,  and  the  muffled  sound  of  tramping  feet  in  the 
street  below — for  it  was  about  six  in  the  evening,  and  New 
York  was  going  home  from  work.  He  had  a  bright  fire 
and  the  added  cheer  of  a  couple  of  student  lamps.  So  it 
was  warm  and  snug  within,  though  bleak  and  raw  without ; 
it  was  light  and  bright  within,  though  outside  it  was  as  dark 
and  dreary  as  if  the  world  had  been  lit  with  Hartford  gas. 
Alonzo  smiled  feebly  to  think  how  his  loving  vagaries  had 
made  him  a  maniac  in  the  eyes  of  the  world,  and  was  pro 
ceeding  to  pursue  his  line  of  thought  further,  when  a  faint, 
sweet  strain,  the  very  ghost  of  sound,  so  remote  and  atten 
uated  it  seemed,  struck  upon  his  ear.  His  pulses  stood 
still;  he  listened  with  parted  lips  and  bated  breath.  The 
song  flowed  on  —  he  waiting,  listening,  rising  slowly  and 
unconsciously  from  his  recumbent  position.  At  last  he  ex 
claimed— 

"  It  is  !  it  is  she  !     Oh,  the  divine  flatted  notes !" 

He  dragged  himself  eagerly  to  the  corner  whence  the 
sounds  proceeded,  tore  aside  a  curtain,  and  discovered  a 
telephone.  He  bent  over,  and  as  the  last  note  died  away 
he  burst  forth  with  the  exclamation — 

"  Oh,  thank  Heaven,  found  at  last !  Speak  to  me,  Rosan- 
nah,  dearest !  The  cruel  mystery  has  been  unravelled ;  it 
was  the  villain  Burley  who  mimicked  my  voice  and  wound 
ed  you  with  insolent  speech  !" 


4oo 

There  was  a  breathless  pause,  a  waiting  age  to  Alonzo; 
then  a  faint  sound  came,  framing  itself  into  language — 

"  Oh,  say  those  precious  words  again,  Alonzo !" 

"They  are  the  truth,  the  veritable  truth,  my  Rosan- 
nah,  and  you  shall  have  the  proof,  ample  and  abundant 
proof!" 

"  Oh,  Alonzo,  stay  by  me  !  Leave  me  not  for  a  moment ! 
Let  me  feel  that  you  are  near  me !  Tell  me  we  shall  never 
be  parted  more  !  Oh,  this  happy  hour,  this  blessed  hour, 
this  memorable  hour !" 

"  We  will  make  record  of  it,  my  Rosannah ;  every  year,  as 
this  dear  hour  chimes  from  the  clock,  we  will  celebrate  it 
with  thanksgivings,  all  the  years  of  our  life." 

"  We  will,  we  will,  Alonzo  !" 

"Four  minutes  after  six,  in  the  evening,  my  Rosannah, 
shall  henceforth—" 

"  Twenty-three  minutes  after  twelve,  afternoon,  shall — " 

"  Why,  Rosannah,  darling,  where  are  you  ?" 

"  In  Honolulu,  Sandwich  Islands.  And  where  are  you  ? 
Stay  by  me ;  do  not  leave  me  for  a  moment.  I  cannot 
bear  it.  Are  you  at  home  ?" 

"  No,  dear,  I  am  in  New  York — a  patient  in  the  doctor's 
hands." 

An  agonizing  shriek  came  buzzing  to  Alonzo's  ear,  like 
the  sharp  buzzing  of  a  hurt  gnat ;  it  lost  power  in  travelling 
five  thousand  miles.  Alonzo  hastened  to  say — 

"  Calm  yourself,  my  child.  It  is  nothing.  Already  I  am 
getting  well  under  the  sweet  healing  of  your  presence. 
Rosannah  ?" 

"  Yes,  Alonzo  ?     Oh,  how  you  terrified  me  !     Say  on." 

"Name  the  happy  day,  Rosannah!" 

There  was  a  little  pause.  Then  a  diffident  small  voice 
replied,  "I  blush — but  it  is  with  pleasure,  it  is  with  happi 
ness.  Would— would  you  like  to  have  it  soon  ?" 


401 

"This  very  night,  Rosannah !  Oh,  let  us  risk  no  more 
delays.  Let  it  be  now  !— this  very  night,  this  very  moment !" 
"  Oh,  you  impatient  creature !  I  have  nobody  here  but 
my  good  old  uncle,  a  missionary  for  a  generation,  and  now 
retired  from  service — nobody  but  him  and  his  wife.  I 
would  so  dearly  like  it  if  your  mother  and  your  aunt 
Susan—" 

"  Our  mother  and  our  aunt  Susan,  my  Rosannah." 
"  Yes,  our  mother  and  our  aunt  Susan — I  am  content  to 
word  it  so  if  it  pleases  you ;   I  would  so  like  to  have  them 
present." 

"  So  would  I.  Suppose  you  telegraph  Aunt  Susan. 
How  long  would  it  take  her  to  come  ?" 

"  The  steamer  leaves  San  Francisco  day  after  to-morrow. 
The  passage  is  eight  days.  She  would  be  here  the  3ist  of 
March." 

"Then  name  the  ist  of  April:  do,  Rosannah,  dear." 
"  Mercy,  it  would  make  us  April  fools,  Alonzo !" 
"  So  we  be  the  happiest  ones  that  that  day's  sun  looks 
down  upon  in  the  whole  broad  expanse  of  the  globe,  why 
need  we  care  ?     Call  it  the  first  of  April,  dear." 

"Then  the  ist  of  April  it  shall  be,  with  all  my  heart!" 
"  Oh,  happiness  !     Name  the  hour,  too,  Rosannah." 
"  I  like  the  morning,  it  is  so  blithe.     Will  eight  in  the 
morning  do,  Alonzo  ?" 

"  The  loveliest  hour  in  the  day — since  it  will  make  you 
mine." 

There  was  a  feeble  but  frantic  sound  for  some  little  time, 
as  if  wool -lipped,  disembodied  spirits  were  exchanging 
kisses;  then  Rosannah  said,  "Excuse  me  just  a  moment, 
dear ;  I  have  an  appointment,  and  am  called  to  meet  it." 

The  young  girl  sought  a  large  parlor  and  took  her  place 
at  a  window  which  looked  out  upon  a  beautiful  scene.  To 
the  left  one  could  view  the  charming  Nuuana  Valley,  fringed 


4O2 

with  its  ruddy  flush  of  tropical  flowers  and  its  plumed  and 
graceful  cocoa  palms  ;  its  rising  foot-hills  clothed  in  the 
shining  green  of  lemon,  citron,  and  orange  groves ;  its 
storied  precipice  beyond,  where  the  first  Kamehameha 
drove  his  defeated  foes  over  to  their  destruction — a  spot 
that  had  forgotten  its  grim  history,  no  doubt,  for  now  it 
was  smiling,  as  almost  always  at  noonday,  under  the  glow 
ing  arches  of  a  succession  of  rainbows.  In  front  of  the  win 
dow  one  could  see  the  quaint  town,  and  here  and  there  a 
picturesque  group  of  dusky  natives,  enjoying  the  blistering 
weather ;  and  far  to  the  right  lay  the  restless  ocean,  tossing 
its  white  mane  in  the  sunshine. 

Rosannah  stood  there,  in  her  filmy  white  raiment,  fan 
ning  her  flushed  and  heated  face,  waiting.  A  Kanaka  boy, 
clothed  in  a  damaged  blue  necktie  and  part  of  a  silk  hat, 
thrust  his  head  in  at  the  door,  and  announced,  "  'Frisco 
haokr 

"  Show  him  in,"  said  the  girl,  straightening  herself  up 
and  assuming  a  meaning  dignity.  Mr.  Sidney  Algernon 
Burley  entered,  clad  from  head  to  heel  in  dazzling  snow — 
that  is  to  say,  in  the  lightest  and  whitest  of  Irish  linen. 
He  moved  eagerly  forward,  but  the  girl  made  a  gesture  and 
gave  him  a  look  which  checked  him  suddenly.  She  said, 
coldly,  "I  am  here,  as  I  promised.  I  believed  your  asser 
tions,  I  yielded  to  your  importunities,  and  said  I  would 
name  the  day.  I  name  the  ist  of  April  —  eight  in  the 
morning.  Now  go !" 

"  Oh,  my  dearest,  if  the  gratitude  of  a  lifetime — " 

"  Not  a  word.  Spare  me  all  sight  of  you,  all  communica 
tion  with  you,  until  that  hour.  No  —  no  supplications ;  I 
will  have  it  so." 

When  he  was  gone,  she  sank  exhausted  in  a  chair,  for 
the  long  siege  of  troubles  she  had  undergone  had  wasted 
her  strength.  Presently  she  said,  "What  a  narrow  escape! 


403 

If  the  hour  appointed  had  been  an  hour  earlier —  Oh,  hor 
ror,  what  an  escape  I  have  made !  And  to  think  I  had 
come  to  imagine  I  was  loving  this  beguiling,  this  truth 
less,  this  treacherous  monster!  Oh,  he  shall  repent  his 
villany  !" 

Let  us  now  draw  this  history  to  a  close,  for  little  more 
needs  to  be  told.  On  the  2d  of  the  ensuing  April,  the 
Honolulu  Advertiser  contained  this  notice  : — 

MARRIED.— In  this  city,  by  telephone,  yesterday  morning,  at  eight 
o'clock,  by  Rev.  Nathan  Hays,  assisted  by  Rev.  Nathaniel  Davis,  of 
New  York,  Mr.  Alonzo  Fitz  Clarence,  of  Eastport,  Maine,  U.  S.,  and 
Miss  Rosannah  Ethelton,  of  Portland,  Oregon,  U.  S.  Mrs.  Susan 
Rowland,  of  San  Francisco,  a  friend  of  the  bride,  was  present,  she 
being  the  guest  of  the  Rev.  Mr.  Hays  and  wife,  uncle  and  aunt  of 
the  bride.  Mr.  Sidney  Algernon  Burley,  of  San  Francisco,  was  also 
present,  but  did  not  remain  till  the  conclusion  of  the  marriage  service. 
Captain  Hawthorne's  beautiful  yacht,  tastefully  decorated,  was  in  wait 
ing,  and  the  happy  bride  and  her  friends  immediately  departed  on  a 
bridal  trip  to  Lahaina  and  Haleakala. 

The  New  York  papers  of  the  same  date  contained  this 
notice  : — 

MARRIED. — In  this  city,  yesterday,  by  telephone,  at  half -past  two  in 
the  morning,  by  Rev.  Nathaniel  Davis,  assisted  by  Rev.  Nathan  Hays, 
of  Honolulu,  Mr.  Alonzo  Fitz  Clarence,  of  Eastport,  Maine,  and  Miss 
Rosannah  Ethelton,  of  Portland,  Oregon.  The  parents  and  several 
friends  of  the  bridegroom  were  present,  and  enjoyed  a  sumptuous 
breakfast  and  much  festivity  until  nearly  sunrise,  and  then  departed 
on  a  bridal  trip  to  the  Aquarium,  the  bridegroom's  state  of  health  not 
admitting  of  a  more  extended  journey. 

Toward  the  close  of  that  memorable  day,  Mr.  and  Mrs. 
Alonzo  Fitz  Clarence  were  buried  in  sweet  converse  con 
cerning  the  pleasures  of  their  several  bridal  tours,  when 
suddenly  the  young  wife  exclaimed :  "  Oh,  Lonny,  I  forgot  ! 
I  did  what  I  said  I  would," 


4Q4 

"  Did  you,  dear  ?" 

"  Indeed  I  did.  I  made  him  the  April  fool !  And  I  told 
him  so,  too  !  Ah,  it  was  a  charming  surprise !  There  he 
stood,  sweltering  in  a  black  dress  suit,  with  the  mercury 
leaking  out  of  the  top  of  th,e  thermometer,  waiting  to  be 
married.  You  should  have  seen  the  look  he  gave  when  I 
whispered  it  in  his  ear !  Ah,  his  wickedness  cost  me  many 
a  heartache  and  many  a  tear,  but  the  score  was  all  squared 
up,  then.  So  the  vengeful  feeling  went  right  out  of  my 
heart,  and  I  begged  him  to  stay,  and  said  I  forgave  him 
everything.  But  he  wouldn't.  He  said  he  would  live  to  be 
avenged ;  said  he  would  make  our  lives  a  curse  to  us.  But 
he  can't,  can  he,  dear?" 

"  Never  in  this  world,  my  Rosannah !" 

Aunt  Susan,  the  Oregonian  grandmother,  and  the  young 
couple  and  their  Eastport  parents,  are  all  happy  at  this 
writing,  and  likely  to  remain  so.  Aunt  Susan  brought  tr^e 
bride  from  the  Islands,  accompanied  her  across  our  conti 
nent,  and  had  the  happiness  of  witnessing  the  rapturous 
meeting  between  an  adoring  husband  and  wife  who  had 
never  seen  each  other  until  that  moment. 

A  word  about  the  wretched  Burley,  whose  wicked  mach 
inations  came  so  near  wrecking  the  hearts  and  lives  of  our 
poor  young  friends,  will  be  sufficient.  In  a  murderous 
attempt  to  seize  a  crippled  and  helpless  artisan  who  he 
fancied  had  done  him  some  small  offence,  he  fell  into  a 
caldron  of  boiling  oil  and  expired  before  he  could  be  ex 
tinguished. 


MAP  OF  PARIS 


TO   THE   READER 

THE  accompanying  map  explains  itself. 

The  idea  of  this  map  is  not  original  with  me,  but  is  bor 
rowed  from  the  great  metropolitan  journals. 

I  claim  no  other  merit  for  this  production  (if  I  may  so 
call  it)  than  that  it  is  accurate.  The  main  blemish  of  the 
city  paper  maps,  of  which  it  is  an  imitation,  is  that  in  them 
more  attention  seems  paid  to  artistic  picturesqueness  than 
geographical  reliability. 

Inasmuch  as  this  is  the  first  time  I  ever  tried  to  draft 
and  engrave  a  map,  or  attempted  anything  in  any  line  of 
art,  the  commendations  the  work  has  received  and  the  ad 
miration  it  has  excited  among  the  people,  have  been  very 
grateful  to  my  feelings.  And  it  is  touching  to  reflect  that 
by  far  the  most  enthusiastic  of  these  praises  have  come 
from  people  who  knew  nothing  at  all  about  art. 

By  an  unimportant  oversight  I  have  engraved  the  map  so 
that  it  reads  wrong  end  first,  except  to  left-handed  people. 
I  forgot  that  in  order  to  make  it  right  in  print,  it  should  be 
drawn  and  engraved  upside  down.  However,  let  the  student 
who  desires  to  contemplate  the  map  stand  on  his  head  or 
hold  it  before  a  looking-glass.  That  will  bring  it  right. 

The  reader  will  comprehend  at  a  glance  that  that  piece 
of  river  with  the  "  High  Bridge  "  over  it  got  left  out  to  one 


4Q6 

side  by  reason  of  a  slip  of  the  graving-tool,  which  rendered 
it  necessary  to  change  the  entire  course  of  the  River  Rhine, 
or  else  spoil  the  map.  After  having  spent  two  days  in  dig 
ging  and  gouging  at  the  map,  I  would  have  changed  the 
course  of  the  Atlantic  Ocean  before  I  would  lose  so  much 
work. 

I  never  had  so  much  trouble  with  anything  in  my  life  as 
I  had  with  this  map.  I  had  heaps  of  little  fortifications 
scattered  all  around  Paris  at  first,  but  every  now  and  then 
my  instruments  would  slip  and  fetch  away  whole  miles  of 
batteries,  and  leave  the  vicinity  as  clean  as  if  the  Prussians 
had  been  there. 

The  reader  will  find  it  well  to  frame  this  map  for  future 
reference,  so  that  it  may  aid  in  extending  popular  intelli 
gence,  and  in  dispelling  the  wide-spread  ignorance  of  the 
day. 


MARK  TWAIN. 


OFFICIAL  COMMENDATIONS 
It  is  the  only  map  of  the  kind  I  ever  saw. 


U.  S.  GRANT. 


It  places  the  situation  in  an  entirely  new  light. 

BISMARCK. 


I  cannot  look  upon  it  without  shedding  tears. 

BRIGHAM  YOUNG. 

It  is  very  nice  large  print. 

NAPOLEON. 


My  wife  was  for  years  afflicted  with  freckles,  and,  though  everything 
was  done  for  her  relief  that  could  be  done,  all  was  in  vain.  But,  sir, 
since  her  first  glance  at  your  map,  they  have  entirely  left  her.  She  has 
nothing  but  convulsions  now, 

J.  SMITH, 


408 


If  I  had  had  this  map,  I  could  have  got  out  of  Metz  without  any 
trouble. 

BAZAINE. 


I  have  seen  a  great  many  maps  in  my  time,  but  none  that  this  one 
reminds  me  of. 

TROCHU. 


It  is  but  fair  to  say  that  in  some  respects  it  is  a  truly  remarkable 
map. 

W.  T.  SHERMAN. 


I  said  to  my  son  Frederick  William,  "If  you  could  only  make  a 
map  like  that,  I  should  be  perfectly  willing  to  see  you  die  —  even 
anxious." 

WILLIAM  III. 


LETTER  READ  AT  A  DINNER 

OF   THE    KNIGHTS    OF  ST.    PATRICK 


HARTFORD,  CT.,  March  16,  1876. 
To  THE  CHAIRMAN: 

DEAR  SIR, — I  am  very  sorry  that  I  cannot  be  with  the 
Knights  of  St.  Patrick  to-morrow  evening.  In  this  cen 
tennial  year  we  ought  to  find  a  peculiar  pleasure  in  doing 
honor  to  the  memory  of  a  man  whose  good  name  has  en 
dured  through  fourteen  centuries.  We  ought  to  find  pleas 
ure  in  it  for  the  reason  that  at  this  time  we  naturally  have 
a  fellow-feeling  for  such  a  man.  He  wrought  a  great  work 
in  his  day.  He  found  Ireland  a  prosperous  republic,  and 
looked  about  him  to  see  if  he  might  find  some  useful  thing 
to  turn  his  hand  to.  He  observed  that  the  president  of 
that  republic  was  in  the  habit  of  sheltering  his  great  offi 
cials  from  deserved  punishment,  so  he  lifted  up  his  staff 
and  smote  him,  and  he  died.  He  found  that  the  secretary 
of  war  had  been  so  unbecomingly  economical  as  to  have 
laid  up  $12,000  a  year  out  of  a  salary  of  $8000,  and  he  killed 
him.  He  found  that  the  secretary  of  the  interior  always 
prayed  over  every  separate  and  distinct  barrel  of  salt  beef 
that  was  intended  for  the  unconverted  savage,  and  then 
kept  that  beef  himself,  so  he  killed  him  also.  He  found 


4io 

that  the  secretary  of  the  navy  knew  more  about  handling 
suspicious  claims  than  he  did  about  handling  a  ship,  and  he 
at  once  made  an  end  of  him.  He  found  that  a  very  foul 
private  secretary  had  been  engineered  through  a  sham  trial, 
so  he  destroyed  him.  He  discovered  that  the  congress 
which  pretended  to  prodigious  virtue  was  very  anxious  to 
investigate  an  ambassador  who  had  dishonored  the  country 
abroad,  but  was  equally  anxious  to  prevent  the  appoint 
ment  of  any  spotless  man  to  a  similar  post;  that  this  con 
gress  had  no  God  but  party ;  no  system  of  morals  but  party 
policy;  no  vision  but  a  bat's  vision;  and  no  reason  or 
excuse  for  existing  anyhow.  Therefore  he  massacred  that 
congress  to  the  last  man. 

When  he  had  finished  his  great  work,  he  said,  in  his 
figurative  way,  "  Lo,  I  have  destroyed  all  the  reptiles  in 
Ireland." 

St.  Patrick  had  no  politics ;  his  sympathies  lay  with  the 
right — that  was  politics  enough.  When  he  came  across  a 
reptile,  he  forgot  to  inquire  whether  he  was  a  democrat  or 
a  republican,  but  simply  exalted  his  staff  and  "let  him  have 
it."  Honored  be  his  name — I  wish  we  had  him  here  to 
trim  us  up  for  the  centennial.  But  that  cannot  be.  His 
staff,  which  was  the  symbol  of  real,  not  sham  reform,  is 
idle.  However,  we  still  have  with  us  the  symbol  of  Truth 
— George  Washington's  little  hatchet — for  I  know  where 
they've  buried  it. 

Yours  truly, 

MARK  TWAIN. 


THE   END 


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